Late For His Life
by Eireish
Summary: After Season 5. Jordan getting her life in order. Jordan & Woody eventually.
1. The Internet Connection

**A/N:** I don't own them. Just borrowing them for awhile.

**The Internet Connection**

The ominous glow of the computer monitor is the only light in the room where he sits, alone, and forces himself to look at the screen _one more time_. There, in front of him – a response he has feared – the result of his most recent internet search. _Why did I run this?_ _What was there to gain?_ But, it is too late now, _in oh so many ways._ The words jump at him from the screen: Max Cavanaugh's obituary.

Knowing that one day he might get this kind of hit, and dreading the very thought of it hasn't stopped him from needing to know. His computer skills no longer being on par with Nigel's and internet searches being the most sophisticated method he has had of getting the information he desires, these searches have been the only way he has allowed himself to keep track of _her_.

The article is not long and with tremendous effort he continues to read, his heart racing as he reaches the end. The death of that giant-of-an-Irishman is difficult to come to grips with; however, that isn't the worst of it. That isn't the part of the obituary that just brought home how terribly he has messed everything up, the aspect that has made his stomach churn and his throat tighten, the element that has made it glaringly clear how very, very wrong he has been.

The component of the obituary that has just rocked the very foundation of his world isn't in the details of Max's demise; it is in the list of survivors. Max, it seems, is survived by a daughter, Jordan Cavanaugh, and a grandson, Wilson Hoyt Cavanaugh.


	2. The Wicked Place

**The Wicked Place**

Her voice froze him in his tracks. He stood there, barely breathing, waiting. And that is how he remained as Jordan approached him, standing in the middle of a vast sea of headstones and statues. She discreetly stifled a laugh behind her hand in order to attempt to maintain the severity of the situation

It had been just one word. _"Wilson."_ But in _that_ tone, that was all it took to chill his almost-4-year-old blood. Her use of his full given name was hardly ever a good thing – and in _that_ tone of voice, it was probably a bad thing, a very bad thing. As he stood there trying to figure out what he could have done _this time_ he heard her approaching behind him. Her voice was quieter and the tone softer when she spoke. "Will." He exhaled the breath he had been holding, relief flooding through him. Whatever had upset his mother had passed – for now. He turned around and looked up at her, "Yes, Mommy?"

Jordan lowered herself to one knee so that she was eye-level with her son and simply held her arms open wide. Will propelled himself into her hug, burying his face in her soft curls as she whispered into his ear. "This is a cemetery, honey." Jordan realized that her statement made no sense whatsoever to the little boy she was holding tightly against her chest, so she tried another approach. "The people here expect this place to be… ummm… quiet. They don't expect anyone to be running between the headstones… the statues… and playing hide-and-seek."

Will's answer was muffled against her neck, so she pulled her head back to look into the depths of his twinkling blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Will, I didn't understand what you just said."

When his voice came out in a stage whisper this time to honor the request for quiet, Jordan smiled. "It wasn't hide-and-seek, Mom" he replied, rolling his eyes at her.

"Oh?"

Will's face was so serious; she had to suppress another smile. "There are dragons here and I have to keep an eye on them."

"I see. Now that does present a challenge." Jordan pursed her lips.

Will intently studied his reflection in his mother's sunglasses. Finally Jordan leaned her head close to Will's ear and suggested in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Maybe you could just sneak up on them?"

"Yeah. K." Will responded with an exaggerated nod and a smile. With a tight squeeze and a light kiss on the forehead, Jordan let him slide down the front of her, his two feet touching the ground for just a moment before they were in motion.

"And Will," his mother's voice followed after him. He turned to look at her and leaned casually against a nearby angel, a bundle of barely-contained energy with mischievous blue eyes and beguiling dimples and unruly hair, he stood waiting obediently but not patiently. "Please stay close."

He shot her a huge grin, "K," and he was off.

Jordan began walking to where everyone was gathering at the graveside, never taking her eyes off her dragon keeper who was now sneaking about quietly among the headstones. Nigel moved forward from out of the crowd gathered under the canopy. He slipped his arm around her waist and continued walking with her. "How are you holding up, Luv? And how is Will?"

"I'm fine, Nige. You know me." She caught his sidelong glance in her direction. "I'm fine. Really." She chuckled softly, then stopped and turned to face him, moving out of his embrace. She waited.

He nodded. "But?" He couldn't see her eyes through the dark glasses and so he could not read what was going on inside of her. It was his turn to wait.

When her answer finally came, it was so soft that Nigel wasn't sure he'd heard correctly – but he knew that he had – and that saddened him. "I miss him."

Nigel looked down at his feet, not willing to let her see his face. He knew that Jordan was not talking about Max. "I know," he replied, still not looking at her lest she detect what he was feeling. She did not need to know that he had sent an email to let him know about Max. Nigel thought that, if anything could bring Woody home, this would be it. But Woodrow remained a no show. And Nigel was more disappointed than he wanted to admit.

"And young Will?" A straightforward question from a concerned "Uncle."

Jordan sighed. "I dunno, Nige. I'm trying to help him understand some of what is going on – just enough, you know. So that he'll have some memory of this and we'll be able to make more sense of it when he's a little older."

XXXXXXXXX

Nothing was making any sense to Will these days.

First Grandpa was taken away in the ambulance and _he_ wasn't allowed to ride along – and his mommy knew how much he liked those things. Although she did assure him that they were _not_ going to use the siren.

Next, he started spending overnights with his Aunt and Uncles – not that it wasn't fun – it was – but it just wasn't home. And there was no place in this world that Will liked as well as his home at bedtime – unless, of course, his mommy or his grandpa was with him.

Then, after a few sleepovers, his mommy told him that Grandpa wouldn't be coming home again because he had moved to heaven. And this didn't make any sense at all because Will knew that his grandpa loved being with him – even when they got into trouble. And… besides that... all of Grandpa's stuff was just as he left it in his room – he hadn't packed a single thing. Will had seen how people moved before – there had to be one of those big trucks – the ones he really liked… with a ramp… and lots of boxes to pack stuff in. There had been no truck, no ramp, and no boxes.

Besides that, his grandpa's favorite picture, the one of Grandpa and Mommy and Will at Disneyland, was _back_ on Grandpa's dresser – back where it belonged next to his own favorite picture of Grandpa and Mommy and Daddy at the place his mommy said is the name of Pogue Mahone.

His grandpa never went away overnight without taking _that_ picture. His mommy had brought the picture to the hospital for Grandpa – at Will's insistence – so that Grandpa would not be alone. The picture came home but Grandpa didn't. Will could not imagine any bedroom being as comfortable as Grandpa's – not even in heaven… and especially not without _that_ picture.

And there were too many people… everywhere… all the time… in _his_ house. And they kept making his mommy cry. Will was sure that it was _them_ – because he couldn't remember doing anything that would make her cry like that. But he had hugged her and told her "sorry" … just in case.

Today, however, things were starting to look up. First there was the ride in the limbo (he really liked that thing) with all the inside lights and sodas and ice bucket and… buttons! Then there was this wicked cool place with all the statues standing guard and the… headstones (his mommy told him that name). Even when Mommy told him it was a "quiet" place – with "cemetery" for a name – it was _wicked awesome_. There were so many dragons… and ghosts (he hadn't told his mommy about those yet)… and people… to watch.

Yep, things were starting to look up.

XXXXXXXXX

The commotion under the canopy brought Jordan back into the moment. "Father Paul's here. I'm sure he'll want to get started right away so that everyone can get out of this heat." Jordan moved away toward the angel statue where her dragon keeper was playing, but Nigel's hand on her arm stopped her. "Let me, Jordan. I'll get him."

"Thanks Nige," she said, glancing once more toward the head with the rumpled hair, as Nigel began maneuvering among the headstones.

It was then that, from the corner of her eye, something caught her attention. Later she wouldn't be able to say exactly what distracted her, whether it was a movement… or a feeling… at the periphery of her mind – as she thought she caught the briefest glimpse of a darkly clad, sunglassed figure as it moved away into a copse. Jordan stood there for a few moments, staring, unsure of what exactly she had seen… if she had seen anything at all.


	3. Unwinding

**Unwinding**

Containers of Superguys, boxes of cars, buckets of bugs, and shelves of books. Jordan couldn't remember the last time she had actually enjoyed cleaning up. Everyone had finally gone home and it was bath time, which meant it was time to unwind. The house felt different without Max, but Jordan realized that "different" was how the house would feel from now on – and she was sadly troubled that "different" would one day feel _normal. Normal but never right._

"Bath time, buddy," Jordan called from the bathroom as she double-checked the temperature of the water she was running into the bathtub. "Grab the P.J.s you want. And don't forget the undies this time." She heard Will rustling through the neatly stacked, perfectly matched pajamas in his dresser drawers. He emerged triumphantly holding the top to his Batman pajamas, the bottoms to his dinosaur pajamas, and a pair of Scooby Doo briefs. Jordan smiled, imagining what the dresser drawers looked like now. "You really had to work to put that ensemble together, huh bud."

"Uh. Huh." The proud answer came complete with a dimpled grin.

Jordan steadied him as he entered the tub and was amused by the heavy sigh Will made as he slid into the bubbles until… "I like this quiet house." The comment was soft, matter-of-fact. And it sent Jordan's mind reeling.

Trying to decide which emotion to respond with, she settled on, "You do, huh?"

Will rolled his eyes at his mother. "Yep."

Jordan pulled Will's turtle stepping stool close to the tub and sat down. She watched as Will pulled some of his bath toys out of the net hanging over the faucet and plopped them into the bubbly water. It was Jordan's turn to sigh softly as she realized that it had been more than three weeks since they had closed their evening in such a peaceful manner together. Tonight she took singular comfort in these neglected rituals.

XXXXXXXXX

"One book tonight, okay? And can we make it something other than…"

"_The Monster at the End of This Book Starring Lovable, Furry Old Grover_!" Will squealed with delight.

"Never mind," Jordan exhaled resignedly, sitting down on the side of the bed so that Will could see all the pictures.

After they discovered who the monster at the end of the book was… for the third time, Will held his fist in front of his face with his index finger pointing up and pleaded, "One more time? Please…"

"Have you heard that the third time is a charm? That's enough for tonight. And tomorrow night it's not only one book… it's only one time, too," Jordan said reaching over to run her fingers through Will's hair. "Now lay down and get comfortable." She pulled the sheet over him as he settled down into the bed. "How about… 'least favorite' to start. Now, who goes first?"

"You!" he giggled, wiggling happily.

"Let's see …my least favorite part of today was …traffic."

"That's from last time," came a disgruntled reply.

"Oh? I said 'traffic' before?" Jordan feigned innocence.

Lying on his back, Will placed his hands on his hips. "Yeah. Every time," he answered sternly.

Jordan worked to suppress a smirk. "Uh. Okay. Then my least favorite part of today was… "

"I miss Grandpa." Will's voice was soft. "That is my least favorite part of today."

Jordan reached out and pulled Will into her arms and onto her lap. She was silent for a moment and then she nodded, "That is my least favorite part of today, too."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Will squirmed back to look into her face. "Now I go first." He waited until Jordan nodded. "My favorite part of today was… all the dragons… in the cemetery… and the ghosts… and Daddy!"

Jordan unconsciously sucked in a sharp breath. She sat perfectly still attempting to process what Will had just said… wondering if she had heard correctly… wondering what exactly he meant. "What color were the dragons?" _That's safe._

"Normal dragon colors… green and orange and purple and red and blue and yellow." Will said this offhandedly as if the question was silly and the answer was obvious.

_At least he didn't roll his eyes at me. _"And what were they doing, these colorful dragons?"

Now Will did roll his eyes. "Sneaking… what else? You _said_ we _had_ to be _quiet_."

"That's right. I did say that, didn't I? Well, you all did a good job at being quiet. I didn't even hear the ghosts."

"That's 'cause they didn't bring their chains when they heard the rule about 'quiet.' Those guys are more fun when they bring their chains," came the gentle but definite reprimand.

Jordan could tell that Will was getting tired, but she had one more question… the most important question. "And, what about Daddy, Will, where did you see Daddy?"

Jordan was not at all prepared for her son's answer, but it wasn't really a surprise. "Over by the really big angel. He was watching you for a long time. He looked at me, too. Then when Uncle Nigel came to get me, he sneaked into the forest."

XXXXXXXXX

"Nigel!" He slowed down as he heard Jordan's voice behind him.

"And a very good morning to you." He stopped, waiting for her to catch up with him.

Her smile was almost apologetic, "Good morning." But she quickly continued, "The other day in the cemetery, when you went to get Will for me, did you see… anything?"

Nigel turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow, "Anything… like?"

"Anything… unusual." They continued down the hall and into Nigel's work area. "Over by the trees. Will said that he saw something…"

"Unusual? Will?" Nigel laughed. "Jordan, that boy's imagination is his most developed super power." He thought for a moment. "So what you're saying is that you wonder if Will saw something _real_?"

"I _so_ would _not_ tell Will that you think his dragons and ghosts aren't _real_."

"Point taken." Nigel was sure there was more to this. "What are you not telling me?" he asked cautiously.

"Okay, okay." She turned to face him and placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. "I think that I might have seen something too. Or someone."

"Aaah. Tell me exactly what young Will said he saw in that cemetery."

"You mean besides the rainbow colored dragons and the chainless ghosts?" Jordan smiled, dropping her hand from Nigel's shoulder.

"Yeah, besides those."

"Daddy."

"What? Oh my." He could not quite read Jordan's expression. "And you think you saw…"

Jordan nodded, then shrugged her shoulders, and then shook her head. " I don't know. I thought, just briefly, that I saw _someone_ walk into the grove of trees at the far end of the cemetery. But I'm not sure. So… you didn't see anyone?"

"No. But that doesn't mean anything. I was busy trying to keep track of what I could see of Will's head as he was moving around between those gravestones." He paused briefly and then asked, "What do you want… to do?"

"I'm not sure. I thought maybe you could…"

Nigel shot her a smirk as he sat down in his chair and bent his head down over his keyboard. He typed and waited, staring at the computer screen. After a few moments he said, "Nope. From what I see here he is still in…"

Jordan raised her hand and gently waved him off. "That's all right, Nige. Don't tell me. And thanks for checking."

The concern showed in his face, "Are you all right, Jordan?"

"No. Not really." For once she had answered him honestly and he wasn't sure how to respond. "But, I will be," she added as she moved out into the hall. She peeked around the corner one more time, "And thank you. For everything," she said and then continued on to her office.

XXXXXXXXX

Now she understood what was meant by "one of those days" – because she had just had one. It was nothing big, just a bunch of little things; but they sure added up. And of course, it all had to happen the day before Will's fourth birthday – as she was trying to prepare for the guests that were coming over the next day to celebrate.

Will was finally, finally in bed asleep; it had taken hours. He was simply too excited about the festivities that the following day promised to settle down. Needing a break before she started her all night party preparation fest, Jordan sat on the couch in the middle of her untidy living room sipping a glass of wine – to unwind.

Max's death had complicated Jordan's life in ways she had never imagined. She hadn't ever considered how intertwined their lives had become since Will's birth. It didn't stop at the fact that they were all living in Max's house. He had often been her daycare, and her last-minute babysitter on the rare occasion that she went out at night. He had been the one she relied on when the car didn't start, or the sink was clogged, or she needed something for Will in the middle of the night.

Three months had passed and Jordan was still discovering all the gaps her father had filled in their lives. After having "one of those days" and with Will's birthday tomorrow – to be followed quickly by Thanksgiving – her mood was becoming increasingly nostalgic.

The knock at the door was soft, and she briefly considered ignoring it in hope that whoever it was would go away. When the second knock came, it was perceptibly louder. Jordan rose with a sigh from her comfortable nest, placing the glass of wine on the coffee table. She figured she had better answer the door because it didn't seem that whoever it was had any intention of going away – and the noise might wake Will – and then she would not be able to get anything done in preparation for the next day.

She chided herself for the umpteenth time that she still hadn't taken the time to have a peephole installed in the front door of the old house. She threw the deadbolt back and slowly opened the door – just enough to get a clear view of whoever it was.

She was met with a pair of blue eyes almost identical to the ones belonging to the child she had finally managed to get to sleep. And he was met with a gasp.


	4. From There to Here

**From There to Here**

_An hour earlier:_

He raised his hand to knock at her door, but then thought better of it. He turned to leave and walked several steps down the sidewalk, but then thought better of it. He returned to stand in front of the door of Max's house – her house – for what seemed like an eternity before he raised his hand again to knock, and then thought better of it, letting his hand drop to his side in frustration.

He wasn't sure how to do this. He didn't know what to say or how to act. He didn't really know how she felt about him anymore – and that scared him. Finally, giving up for the time being, he sat down in the rocker on the front porch and allowed the thoughts and memories to wash over him.

XXXXXXXXX

_Woody's reminiscence:_

Boston is Jordan's home. It is where she gets her strength – even if she runs away, she always returns to Boston. After all she had been through, I knew she would be fine. They – her extraordinary little family at the morgue – had championed her while she was on the run. They would be there for her when I left.

It's not as if we didn't part on good terms – if walking out of the life of your one true love can ever be called "good." And it's not as if we I didn't talk to her about it. In fact, about a week before I left we had a conversation… of sorts...

"I love you, Jordan. I do." _There, I finally admitted to her, and to myself, that I still loved her._ I could tell by her reaction that she already knew. "But, this has all been too much and I feel like everything is in pieces."

"You're not Humpty Dumpty, Woods."

"Jordan, I'm being serious here."

"And I'm not?"

"Not when you bring Mother Goose into this."

"If the shoe fits …"

"Jordan –"

I told her that I just needed a little distance from everything. I told her it would be for just a little while.

"No, Woody, it won't. Don't lie to yourself, and don't lie to me. _We_ have to get help. Things have just not been right since… I… I just don't think we can do this on our own anymore."

"I have to put it all behind me, behind us. I have to get my footing back. I have to do this thing, Jordan. And I can't do it here." I was talking about all the stuff I was having trouble with, all the emotions I was not able to identify – much less put into words at the time. Almost everything came out as anger. I felt it destroying "us", and I was afraid it would hurt her more than I already had; I couldn't allow that to happen. By leaving, I hoped that I would at least leave a few good memories… even If I eventually self-destructed without her.

"This isn't _just_ yours to deal with and you _don't_ need to handle this alone," she said softly, placing her hand gently on my cheek.

I pulled her hand from my cheek, kissed her palm, and then held it between my hands. "What, now you're offering to be one of the King's Men?" Jordan groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ah, I see – what is good for the goose is not always good for the gander?" This elicited another groan from Jordan.

"I need this, Jordan. This is for me… please."

And she didn't fight me. Jordan, of all people, understood the need to get away, and she would not stand in the way of what I had convinced myself was best for me. Unfortunately, the significance of her attitude was beyond my comprehension at the time. And it didn't dawn on me until much later that through those difficult last few weeks as I was preparing to leave, Jordan faced it all with quiet acquiescence – the same as when Devan happened, the same as when Lu happened.

I knew I was hurting her. Hell, I knew I was hurting myself. And I took the coward's way. Leaving was so much easier than dealing daily with the hurt I had caused and the mess I had made – of everything. Leaving was so much easier than growing up.

I'm not saying that Jordan didn't use every trick in the book to try to convince me to stay, she did – she knew how to play dirty… and she did. Those memories still make me... ummm… But in the end, she let me go, because that is what I told her I wanted.

The night before I left I was spooned against her after we made love. "I'll be back, probably sooner than you think," I told her softly as I kissed the back of her head. I knew that I was leaving in a few hours, a fact that I hadn't shared with her, and I also knew that I wasn't being completely honest with her. "Please, don't look for me. Just let me do this in my own way and in my own time." Even as I made the request, I realized that Jordan rarely – if ever – did what I asked.

"Woody, you know me," she sighed softly, snuggling even closer to me.

"Yeah, that's the point, Jordan. I _do_ know you. And I know how very… _resourceful_… you can be. Please, just promise me that you will not look for me – no matter what. I will get in contact with you when I'm ready. Please. Promise me."

I couldn't see her face, but I heard the catch in her voice as she whispered, "I promise, Woody."

In the early morning, with the rain pouring down outside, I rose from her warm bed while she slept, kissed her softly on the temple, and quietly slipped out the red door of her apartment, closing it ever so gently behind me. I knew that I wouldn't be back soon… if ever.

And Jordan kept her promise… to this very day.

I received a handful of letters and a few emails over the years. But, none ever came directly from Jordan. The return address on all of the letters was in her writing. However, my address was written in a heavier scrawl that looked like a man's handwriting. I suspected that Nigel sent the letters to me, because he was the one that sent the emails. I surmised over the years, and this whole situation has confirmed, that the letters were her way of reaching out to me without breaking her promise. I kept each letter and email – in a safe place – unopened.

The physical distance between us gradually grew to more than 2,500 miles, and the "little while" grew to – well, it's been going on five years. Now, I'm sitting here on the porch of Max's house, and I can't for the life of me fathom why I couldn't have tried just a little harder – or held on for just a little while longer – or trusted Jordan enough to open her letters.

I calculatingly fooled myself into thinking that making a new life would be easier than fixing the old one. After all, I figured, wasn't the old one beyond repair? The problem remained – I never really moved on. I continued to exist, breath after breath, day after day, year after year, but thoughts of her and regrets for what might have been were never very far from my consciousness. I went through the motions of living, but I knew that I walked away from my real life on that rainy February morning _so long ago_.

Occasionally I tried to envision what Jordan's life was like without me. She had moved on, I was sure of that. After all, she was – and is – the most beautiful, passionate, compassionate, intense person I'd ever met. She always had been a survivor even though I'm not sure she recognized that in herself. A small thing like me leaving could not possibly stop her.

In all my imaginings of Jordan's life without me, I never once, not even for a second, considered the course of her life going in the direction that those words in Max's obituary revealed. Jordan Cavanaugh has a son. And I, Woodrow Wilson Hoyt, am the boy's father.

XXXXXXXXX

He sat in her rocking chair on her porch for more than an hour on that cold November night – the night before their son's fourth birthday. Finding the courage that had eluded him five years before, he stood again in front of the door and raised his hand to knock.


	5. Did Your Heart Get the Message?

**Did Your Heart Get the Message?**

"Do you mind if I… uh…"

"No! No, please…" She stepped back opening the door wide enough for him to enter and waved him in with her hand.

His eyes quickly scanned the interior of the house, jumping from the toys – to the paperwork – to more toys.

_Always the detective_. She smiled to herself closing the door behind them and waited for him to speak.

"I got your letters," he said turning to face her. His heart caught in his throat as he looked at her close-up for the first time in almost five years.

"Oh," came her noncommittal reply. She was not going to make this easy on him; he didn't blame her.

"I wish I could claim it was the mail service that took so long to deliver them," the words were coming out in a rush and he was helpless to stop them, "but it wasn't. I was so messed up. And then, when I was thinking more clearly – I felt so guilty about everything. You were better off without me. I didn't read the letters until after I discovered Max's obituary on the Internet and I found out about… Jordan, I've been… I just didn't know. I'm so sorry."

She smiled at him but it didn't reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes – which were usually so expressive that they betrayed her every emotion – were veiled to him. He had no clue what she was thinking or feeling.

Jordan didn't respond to his outburst but walked up to him, stopping directly in front of where he stood, and looked up into his eyes. "It has been a long time, Woody."

His throat tightened, his voice failed him, and all he could do was nod. This time when she smiled, the emotion did reach her eyes – and he felt an instant rush of relief.

She took him by the hand and led him to the couch, motioning for him to sit down at one end. She sat at the opposite end. The distance between them was significant – and symbolic. He felt like he was being punished; but, again, he didn't blame her. Reaching over to the coffee table she picked up her glass of wine. "Would you like some?"

He shook his head. She waited.

"He's a handsome boy – the pictures… uh… in the letters. You know…" Woody managed to force out, still surveying the topsy-turvy living room, and wondering if it was going to reveal more to him tonight than she would.

She raised her eyebrows and nodded, but she didn't say anything. A heavy blanket of silence settled over them until…

"Throw me a line here, Jordan, please. I'm drowning."

"What is it that you want, Woody? Why are you here?" The questions were sincere and her tone without ire.

"I don't really know… what… is possible?" His gaze strayed from her to the staircase and back again.

Making up her mind, she stood up with a gentle release of breath and placed her empty wine glass back on the coffee table. She held out her hand, again, for him to take. "Come on," she said, nodding toward the staircase.

He rose from the couch and reached out his hand for hers in one fluid motion. He quietly followed her to the staircase, up the stairs, and into the bedroom that obviously belonged to a child. In the dim light he could make out shelves stacked neatly with containers of toys and stuffed animals, a bookcase overflowing with volumes, a dresser upon which sat a softly glowing Classic Winnie-the-Pooh lamp – "_Pooh_, Jordan?" he whispered.

"One of my favorites… when they're little you can get away with it," came her soft reply. She watched him openly as his gaze fell upon the object of his obvious curiosity.

The boy lay on his side in a twin-sized bed that seemed to engulf him. There was enough light for Woody to see the contented look on the sleeping child's face. Jordan released his hand and motioned that it was all right for him to move closer. He suddenly found himself kneeling beside the bed, his face inches from the boy's. Woody looked up at her and the unconcealed wonder she saw on his face melted any residual frost lingering in her heart.

"It's okay, you can touch him," Jordan whispered, remembering that just a short while ago she was worried about the sound of a knock on the door waking this same sleeping child.

Gingerly he reached out and gently he stroked the disheveled locks. He noted the boy's soft, steady breathing. Unprepared to leave just yet, he tentatively ran his fingers softly along the boy's cheek. And he was rewarded with a soft flutter of eyelids – and then he was looking into a pair of blue eyes very much like his own.

After a moment of hesitation he was greeted with a drowsy exhale, "Daddy."

Woody's head instantly snapped up to look at Jordan who, seemingly unsurprised by the whole episode, smiled slightly and nodded back toward their son.

Looking once again into those sleepy blue eyes, Woody nodded and then managed to croak, "Yeah… um… yeah."

"K," came the sleepy voice once more, "G'night, Daddy." The eyes were closed once more and the breathing was again soft and steady.

Uncertain of what to do next, Woody softly kissed the slumbering child on the temple. He then sank to the floor and sat cross-legged with his head resting in his hands.

Jordan left him sitting there in their son's room and went silently back down the stairs to the living room. She still had so much to do before tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXX

Jordan heard the footsteps descending the staircase and knew it had to be Woody – the tread was way too light and even for it to be Will. She breathed a grateful sigh of relief as she realized Will was still sleeping.

He grinned at her coyly as he reached the bottom stair. "He is amazing, Jordan," his voice choked as he spoke.

"_Wicked_ amazing," she smiled back at him, her eyes twinkling.

"What?" He looked perplexed.

"Will's favorite expression lately," she said casually as if that explained it all.

He could tell she was trying to keep the situation light, and for that he was thankful. He looked at her, not at all sure what to say.

"Perhaps we need to talk?" she offered.

"We need to talk," he agreed, "we never did that very often… before."

"And see where that got us," she responded sheepishly.

"Good point." He moved over to reclaim his spot on the couch in the newly tidied living room. "Wow, that was… fast. You didn't have to do that for me," he grinned at her.

Jordan was a bit chagrined when she realized how beguiling she still found his grin. Shaking her head almost imperceptibly, she found her voice and replied, "It was just clutter. It gets that way sometimes by the end of the week. But I had to take care of it tonight. I won't have much time tomorrow."

"Oh?" He waited for her to continue, hoping for her to volunteer more information. "Is something special going on tomorrow?" he smiled at her with feigned innocence.

"You said you read the letters. You _know_ tomorrow is special."

"Maybe that's a good starting point – if you don't mind – what happened when I left?" It came out as a plea.

"All right. We can start there I guess. But, will you agree to just listen? Let me say what I need to say? We can discuss it later if we need to." He nodded in agreement. Jordan sat down at the opposite end of the couch pulling her feet underneath her and looked at Woody as she began, "Your side of the bed was cold by the time I woke up that morning, and I knew deep down that you were gone. I realized that I hadn't been enough…"

Woody's gasp stopped her for a moment, but the look she gave him waylaid any comment, and she hastily continued, "Nothing I said or did had been enough to keep you. And I had really tried. I also realized that until you were happy with yourself, there was no chance for _us_ to be happy together."

XXXXXXXXX

_Jordan remembers:_

The days just after you left are a blur. I went through the motions of living. I learned to exist with constant nausea, which was the result of the void I felt. As the weeks passed and the queasiness didn't, it gradually dawned on me that my body was changing in ways I did not recognize and that the way I was feeling might be from something more than just missing you.

I promised you that I would not try to find you. I promised you that I would not contact you. And suddenly I found myself so confused. I struggled in my mind – how to keep my promise to you to leave you alone and still be fair to you and to the life that was growing inside of me.

And then – Nigel…

"Come on, Luv, spill," Nigel voice coerced me as we sat in the break room several months after you left.

"It's nothing," I said in a vain attempt to brush it off.

"Is it the baby? Or is it Woodrow?" Nigel can be persistent – and perceptive.

"It's this promise that I made to Woody – that I won't try to find him, that I won't contact him…" I let my words trail off.

"Ahhh," Nigel smirked at me with a gleam in his eyes.

"What? What?" I pleaded as Nigel's smirk turned into a huge smile. "Oh… Nige," I gasped as it slowly dawned on me, "you know where he is!" It came out as a whisper.

If it was possible, Nigel's smile got bigger. "Nige… you know what he's doing… where he's working." His nod was almost imperceptible.

"Does he know?" I asked.

"Now J Cav," Nigel said reaching out and taking my hands in his, "you know me better than that. As much as I would love to give our dear Woodrow a piece of my mind…"

"How long…" I didn't have to finish my sentence.

"I've been keeping tabs on our wayward Detective since he left Boston," Nigel stated nonchalantly.

"Oh," was the only answer I could muster. It was the only thing I felt safe saying at the time. I should have known that Nigel had my back – even when I wasn't aware of it.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"It doesn't seem fair to keep the pregnancy a secret from him. But, I promised…" I said softly.

Nigel nodded, "And a promise is a promise, after all. But I, on the other hand, made no such promise." I couldn't help but smile at what Nigel was suggesting.

I wrote the first letter letting you know that we were expecting and that the baby was due in November. I enclosed an ultrasound picture of the baby that I had annotated with grease pencil notes so that you would have an idea of what you were looking at. I sealed the envelope and wrote my return address on the outside, and I gave the envelope to Nigel.

In the days that followed, I tried to convince myself that I wasn't waiting, almost holding my breath, for any kind of acknowledgement from you. The days dragged on. Nothing. I tried not to be disappointed, but I was.

After a couple of months Nigel broached the subject again, "Anything from our dear Woodrow, Luv?"

I could see by the look in Nigel's eyes that he knew the answer before I responded, "No, not a thing. I just wish I knew what he was thinking when he read the letter."

Nigel had his head tilted down and was looking at something on the ground. Without raising his head, he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and made a soft reply that I had to strain to hear, "I don't think he has opened it."

"What would make you say that, Nige?" I asked cautiously.

Nigel didn't answer immediately. He raised his head and looked me in the eye as he slowly replied, "I've sent Woodrow a couple of emails." I made a small gasp but didn't interrupt. "They haven't been opened. They haven't been deleted, mind you. But, he hasn't opened them, either."

After that conversation with Nigel I continued to prepare letters, and Nigel continued to send them. If you opened any of the letters, you would know about my pregnancy, our son's birth, and, as Will grew, some of the milestones of our life that I wanted so much to share with my son's father.

This has all taken a toll on Nigel – the other day he came into my office and sat down on the couch. Nigel doesn't do that often, so I knew something was weighing heavily on his mind. I waited for him to open up, "You know, Luv, this can be torture sometimes."

"What can, Nige?" I truly was not following his line of thought.

"Watching you struggle. Knowing that any contact from Woodrow could ease your burdens. Realizing how much they both are missing," he stopped for a moment before he continued. "It is difficult, sometimes, to be a part of your little man's life… to share in the wonder of watching him grow… and to realize all that his father is missing out on. I feel so lucky to be a part of your life… Will's life. And sometimes I just feel so sad for Woodrow."

I had been wondering for a long time, and now was my chance to ask, "He still hasn't opened any of them?" It came out as a statement as much as a question.

Nigel shook his head, "No, Jordan, not a single one."

That new information emphasized the gaping hole in my relationship with you. You had always cared, you had always been there for me – even when it was difficult for you or caused you… _problems_.

I had been able to rely on you, Woody – no matter what. It became obvious to me at then that my ability to depend on you was gone… maybe forever.

I was convinced, more than ever before, that you had moved on. You had misled me – best case – or lied to me – worst case – when you promised that you would always be there for me.

I wondered, especially during my pregnancy, how life was going for you. I have always hoped that you were happy – even if it had to be without me – I wanted you to be happy. And it was comforting to know that Nigel was keeping an eye on you, even if he didn't share with me what he knew about your new life.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody closed his eyes and laid his head against the back of the couch, his mind working hard to process all that he had just learned. _Where do I start? What can I say?_

He sat up again and looked over at Jordan. "I'm _so_ sorry, Jordan." He had the feeling that he would be saying that – a lot. "Nigel was right. I hadn't opened any of the letters. Not until after I found Max's obituary in an Internet search."

"You mean to tell me that you had all the letters Nigel sent for me – in your possession – but you didn't open them."

"True."

"And you would periodically check up on me using the Internet…"

"True again."

"…Even though you had the letters."

"Right."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It seemed to at the time." He shrugged and shot her a full dimpled smile.

Jordan returned the smile but was not quite finished with the subject, "You opened the letters after you read Dad's obituary because you found out about Will and you figured out that he is your son…"

"You left no doubt about his parentage when you named him. Did you put a lot of thought into that?"

Jordan ignored his interjection and continued, "…then you know tomorrow is…"

"Will's fourth birthday," Woody finished for her. "I wanted to be here… hoped you'd let me… since I missed his birth and his first three birthdays." He studied her carefully, watching myriad emotions – and then confusion – reflected in her eyes. "What is it, Jo?"

"What took you so long? Dad's been gone for over three months. You've known about… What took you so long to come to meet him, Woody?"

"On the airplane ride home – after Max's funeral…" Woody stopped talking when her hand flew to her mouth.

"You… that _was_ you. Will _said_ he saw you at the funeral. And then you walked into the 'forest'." Jordan exhaled and began again, "I saw you, too. But I didn't know it was you."

Woody felt the confusion bubbling to the surface of his mind. "Will said he saw _me_? How would he… Jordan – why did Will call me 'Daddy' tonight?"

"Will has always known you are his father. He likes to look at pictures of you, and he's very proud of the fact that he shares part of your name. You've always been a part of his life." Jordan watched as Woody ran his fingers through his already tousled hair and she realized that he was nervous. She asked again, softly this time, "What took you so long?"

"I decided that I had to do this right. For Will. For you. For me. It took longer than I hoped it would to take care of everything." Jordan nodded but he could tell that she did not comprehend what he was trying to say, so he continued, "I had to pack. I had to give notice at work. I had to try to find a new place to live." He spelled it out for her as succinctly as he could. "I had to find a new job… I start with Boston PD Homicide on Monday."


	6. Prologue

**Prologue**

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed two o'clock, rousing Jordan from her reverie. She was numb. And she groaned softly as she thought back on the events of the past few hours. The result: Woody – sleeping – upstairs in her father's old room.

After Woody revealed his move back to Boston, additional conversation resulted in his disclosure that he had just arrived in town – minutes before he landed on her doorstep – and that this was the first place he stopped. As their dialogue continued, he reluctantly admitted he hadn't found an apartment _yet_ and he hadn't been successful in finding a motel room for the evening, either. And so… she had offered to let him stay in Max's room – _for one night_.

They agreed to continue the heart-to-heart later and Woody, obviously worn-out, decided to retire for the evening. Jordan remained downstairs on the pretense there were a few things she needed to finish, and thank you but no, she didn't need any help.

Finally, figuring she had accomplished all she could… including finishing off the bottle of wine… Jordan dragged herself up the stairs, into a hot shower, and finally – into bed. _I'll deal with it tomorrow._

XXXXXXXXX

He told Jordan he was tired even though he knew he would not be able to sleep any time soon. After toting his suitcase up the stairs and into Max's room, he stripped down to his underwear, turned on the bedside reading light, and sat cross-legged on the bed with a bundle of letters.

He opened the first envelope and removed the contents – a handwritten note and an ultrasound film… a picture of his unborn child. The arms and legs and head of the baby were all carefully identified with grease pencil notations. He read the words as they were written on the piece of paper and his mind filled in some of what she had not put into words. He sensed confusion and fear of rejection and determination. He also detected notes of joy and wonder and loneliness.

The second letter told him their baby was a son, and she planned to name him Wilson Hoyt – and was he all right with that? She shared that Lily was attending Lamaze classes with her, Max had somehow found out about the baby and had returned home, and Max wanted her to move in with him.

While the return address on the first two letters had been from Pearle Street, the next one – announcing Will's safe arrival – had Max's home as the return address. The letter began:

_Dear Woody,_

_Our son, Wilson Hoyt Cavanaugh, entered the world on an unseasonably warm November 20th. When the nurse placed the squirming baby on my chest seconds after his birth, his tiny bottom lip stuck out in a definite pout – and I fell in love, big-time. I've never put a lot of stock in "love at first sight" – but now I'm a believer. _

_All of the uncertainty, all of the fear, all of the guilt of the past few months melted away with the bright rays of the sun shining benevolently through our hospital window. That day was the beginning of my new life, of our new life._

He continued to open each envelope, in order, and the adventure of their son's life unfolded before him. He absorbed each of the enclosures – assorted pictures and drawings and cards – and he read each letter, stopping to reread and savor his favorite passages:

…_Will was born with baby-blue eyes, and it wasn't long before they turned into Woody-blue eyes. His hair is yours too – the same widow's peak, the same shade of brown, and just as untamed... _

…_Will had never been a demanding baby and had often been content to simply observe his surroundings. That is, until he learned to walk. Actually, Will never walks – he runs… everywhere…_

…_I think Dad and Will have been watching the Peter Pan DVD way too much. When Dad asks Will what a crocodile says, Will tells him it says, "Tick-Tock"…_

… _Bug was thrilled this week. His name is one of Will's first words – giving him special bragging rights with Nigel. It's often a contest between the two "Uncles" to see who can maintain Will's attention the longest – Nigel with his computers and gadgets and gizmos or Bug with his… bugs…_

…_Will is an excellent listener and quite capable of following intricate direction – that is, if he isn't being stubborn. I know that stubbornness is a trait he couldn't miss out on – it was passed on to him from _both of his parents_… _

…_He is growing so fast, Woody. I miss the tiny handprints… on everything. I left one on the glass of the stereo cabinet. I won't wipe that one away… not just yet. Maybe, someday…_

…_Will is the most good-natured, optimistic person I have ever had the pleasure to meet. And all I can figure is it must have come from his father…_

…_Dad and Will are still on that Peter Pan kick. Will used to jump around the house "pretend" sword fighting with anything he could find. Recently, however, I'm not sure whether our son is only interested in the antics of Peter Pan. I think he's beginning to show a penchant for the feisty pixie. He is enthralled by all the trouble Tinkerbelle gets into, and she makes him laugh. I wonder if this could portend the future…_

…_It seems "stick up hair" is the new hairdo Will wants, and with his hair being the way it is naturally – it's not a difficult look to achieve…_

…_Will has developed a new fondness for Superguys – you know… Batguy and Superguy and Spiderguy. I'm sure that one day in the not too distant future convention will intervene and they will revert to their alter egos – Batman and Superman and Spiderman – and then I'll miss those guys…_

…_Will asked me yesterday, "When the wind blows out a candle, does it make a wish?" What do you think?..._

After Jordan's generous narration in those letters he almost felt like he knew Will, which he realized was part of her intent. He also recognized in those letters motives other than just to inform him; Jordan wrote the letters in the way she did in an attempt to reach him, to engage him, to bring him to his senses. As comprehensive as the letters seemed at first, after reading them he knew nothing about Jordan's life other than as it pertained to Will – which, he suspected, was also one of her objectives.

He heard the clock downstairs strike two, then he heard her light tread on the stairs, and then he heard the shower. He turned off the light and lay back in Max's bed – hoping for sleep and praying that it would be dreamless.


	7. Introductions

**Introductions**

Her lips were soft, yielding. One of his hands was at the back of her head, tangled in her hair and the other was at the small of her back, pulling her closer… closer. His breaths were becoming shallower, faster, and the blood was flooding to his groin, the arousal building. He was lost in the feel of her, the smell of her… Until the door opened… and he looked across the room into those brown eyes… again… and he briefly detected the pain, the betrayal filling those beautiful eyes before she was able to quickly look away… again…

He woke suddenly, breathing rapidly. This was always the point at which he woke up – with the arousal swiftly dissipating and the feeling of utter hopelessness and regret descending into his being. He had helplessly watched Jordan walk away… again… and yet again he got the uneasy feeling as she walked away from the door and down the hall that she was walking away on oh, so many levels.

Woody lay on his back attempting to regain control of his breathing and wondered if he would ever succeed in banishing this nightmare – forever. This was not the way he wanted to begin his son's fourth birthday and he worked to push the residual sensations from his body and his mind.

A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table told him it was early. _But not too early._ He hastily made Max's bed and headed for the shower. If his luck continued to hold out he'd find everything he needed downstairs, and all would be well underway before the other two inhabitants of the house arose.

XXXXXXXXX

Jordan was dragged into consciousness by the feeling of the little fingers prying her eyes open and the aroma of coffee. Will was on top of her, his face an inch from hers, his blue eyes staring into her own. And he was _whispering_ – very loudly.

"Too early." She tried to pull him into the bed beside her with the hope that she could get him to go back to sleep. He squirmed out of her grip and sat on top of her again. It occurred to her that he was still talking, and she finally managed to focus on what he was saying.

"Daddy's making breakfast."

"Yes, Will." With that said, the memory of the previous evening came rushing back and Jordan was on her way down the stairs, tying her robe closed as she went, with Will following closely behind her. Woody looked up as she entered the kitchen, "Good Morning. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Good Morning. You didn't," she replied motioning with her hand to Will who was effectively hiding behind his mother.

"Oh, I see," Woody replied smiling at Jordan and hoping that she would provide some indication of how he should handle the situation. Last night the little boy hiding behind her had called him "Daddy" and now he was shyly using his mother as a shield.

Jordan recognized Woody's indecision and immediately knelt down next to Will and asked softly, "Would you like to say hello to your daddy?" The nod was almost imperceptible. Jordan looked up at Woody to find him walking in their direction.

Woody knelt down next to Jordan and extended his hand, "Hello Will. It's nice to meet you." The little boy nodded and extended his hand. "Would you and your mommy like to join me for breakfast? I think I made too many pancakes to eat all by myself."

Will's eyes widened and he looked at Jordan, who nodded. "Oh, yes please," he replied as he rushed toward the table.

"How did you know he loves pancakes?" Jordan chuckled.

"Just a lucky guess… they're my favorite breakfast food, so I figured I'd give it a try."

"Like father like son?" Jordan looked at him raising her eyebrows.

His smile was warm and his voice sincere, "I like the sound of that."

XXXXXXXXX

"Ummm. Something smells good. Like…" Woody entered the kitchen taking a deep breath "…I can't quite place it. What _are_ you making?"

"Corned beef and potatoes. No cabbage. Spaghetti and marinara – with meatballs on the side. Salad with ranch dressing – no tomatoes, but lots of onions and pickled cucumbers. Sweet potatoes with _real_ butter. And broccoli trees – only the leaves, not the trunks." Behind the tiniest trace of a smile on her face was a look of… resignation? Her smile broadened slightly when she detected his confusion.

"And cake. Don't forget the chocolate cake," came Will's voice from behind Woody. "My birthday dinner! For my Pirate Party!"

Woody was now standing directly in front of her and Jordan's voice was little more than a whisper, "This can happen when he's given choice without limits. I'm learning."

"How is the Pirate Ship Treasure Chest?" she asked in a normal speaking tone.

"Daddy fixed it and I helped. And I buried all the treasure!" Will's declaration was triumphant.

Earlier that morning Jordan had gone to bury "treasure" gift bags for the younger party guests to dig for in Will's boat-shaped sandbox – only to discover that the sand was disgustingly soggy. With Will's assistance, Woody undertook the laborious task of removing the "yucky" sand and replacing it with dry, clean sand – sand that came from the toy store.

Jordan had purposely not warned him about taking Will to the toy store… while she had enjoyed an extended, uninterrupted, productive morning of "Pirate" party preparation.

"I can't thank you enough, Woody," she said, tilting her head up slightly in order to look into his eyes.

"My pleasure. Just one thing, though?"

"Anything." It was out of her mouth before her brain engaged.

Woody lifted one eyebrow and his eyes traveled her body from head to toe before they locked with hers, where they remained for several long moments. "Shower?" he finally managed, his voice revealingly husky.

"Yeah, um… sure. I put clean towels up there a while ago." Her reply was distracted and she answered without breaking his gaze.

He looked away momentarily and then briefly back to her. "I'll… yeah… thanks," he mumbled as he moved out of the room, leaving Jordan standing in the kitchen – not quite sure what to do next.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody realized that the house was considerably nosier than when he had slipped upstairs to shower and change. He reached the bottom of the stairs – searching for Jordan to find out if she had anything else that needed to be done.

Uncle Bug and Uncle Nigel were surveying Will's "loot" with him. They had counted fourteen gifts when a movement caught Bug's attention and he noticed the tall figure standing at the bottom of the stairs. He quickly tapped Nigel's shoulder.

"What?"

"Not what. Who." Bug said in an even voice as he nodded slightly toward the stairs.

Will realized that his Uncles had stopped counting and he curiously glanced over to where they were staring. "Oh. That's my daddy," he pointed out nonchalantly and promptly returned his attention to the pressing matters at hand.


	8. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

Jordan sighed as she sank gratefully into the waiting arms of the overstuffed chair.

"Tired?" Woody's weary tone was teasing.

"No. Not at all. You?" She closed her eyes – just to rest – just for a second. "Everyone's gone. It's over, it was a success, we survived – and I could sleep for a week," she mumbled.

"Nice shindig." His voice was a bit pensive. "That was quite the guest list."

"Only Will's 'favoritest' people…" Jordan replied tiredly. After a moment, she opened her eyes to look at him. "Why, do I detect a note of… disapproval, Detective?"

"I'm just saying…"

"A little overwhelming? So many little kids? Too wound up – in one _small_ place? They do have more energy than any one person has a right to possess." She regarded him analytically and he shrugged his shoulders.

All of a sudden it dawned on her, "Or… not quite what you were anticipating? A four-year-old's birthday party… with heavy attendance by Morgue personnel and members of BPD?"

Woody nodded. Jordan could tell it had been a nerve-wracking experience for him – this untimely, unexpected reunion with former colleagues… many of whom he would soon be working with again.

Remembering snippets of conversation she overheard during the party, she surmised the evening must have been emotionally charged for Woody. The evidence suggested that her relationship with Woody was not the only association he abandoned in a state of disrepair when he left town.

After a few moments, she added softly, "Will _is_ quite a social butterfly."

Woody's grin was genuine. "I noticed."

Jordan rose reluctantly from the comfort of the chair. "I'd better get started – I think there's enough work in the kitchen to keep me busy for days."

"What would you like me to do?"

"A bath would be good," she said, starting toward the kitchen. She turned to look at him when she didn't receive a response.

He stood, his head cocked toward her, with _that look_ on his face. She sighed in mock exasperation, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. "Will needs a bath tonight – he's wearing half the sandbox."

"You want me… to give him… _a bath_?" Woody choked.

"If you don't mind. He'll help you – he knows the routine. The only things he _can't_ do are run the water and pour in the bubbles – for reasons I'll leave to your imagination. The floating rubber duckie doubles as a bath thermometer – just keep the water temperature in the 'green' range and all is good." She smiled at him sweetly.

"Oh-Kay." He did not look convinced... yet.

"If you ask him, he'll bring his own pajamas – don't sweat it if the top and bottom don't match. I think it's a phase. Besides, learning autonomy comes first – right? And fashion sense will come later." She smirked at him adding, "Or not," as she turned back toward the kitchen.

Woody nodded absently and moved off in search of Will – still not convinced this was a good idea. He heard her last instruction as he started up the stairs…

"Oh, and – he _does_ wear underwear under his PJs… no matter what he tells you."

XXXXXXXXX

By the time she heard the familiar thump – thump – thump coming down the stairs, she had made a significant dent in the kitchen cleanup. Jordan squatted to wrap Will in a bear hug as soon as he bounded through the doorway.

As he pulled out of her embrace, she cupped his chin in her hand, "Did you brush 'em?"

He nodded, "Yep," and smiled huge for her to inspect.

When she flung her hand up in front of her eyes and gasped, "Too… bright," she was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Thanks, Woods," she said as she stood up. He nodded, looking none the worse for his ordeal.

"Peter Pan, Mommy? Please. Just one time?" Will's blue eyes sparkled.

DVDs were not the usual bedtime fare. But it _was_ his birthday… "Okay, okay. Bring one book. One. And the DVD. You can watch Peter Pan down here while I finish in the kitchen."

"K", and he raced toward the stairs.

"Wilson." Her voice followed behind him bringing him to a sudden stop.

He turned around slowly to look at her, "Yes, Mommy. Go slow?"

"Yes, Will. Please," she nodded.

"K." This time he walked – in a very exaggerated manner – s-l-o-w-l-y to the stairs, then up the stairs to his bedroom to retrieve his evening entertainment.

Woody smiled at her. "That was nice, Jo. Thanks."

She studied him out of the corner of her eye, not sure whether he was being serious or not. He was, she concluded. "Not as bad as you thought?"

"He's great. He sure can talk."

"Yeah, if you ever want to know anything – just ask Will. He overhears everything – and tends to repeat things back at the most inopportune moments."

"Is that a warning?" Woody couldn't help but smile at the potential implications.

"I'm just saying…" She smiled back at him. "So, how long has it been since you watched Peter Pan?"

"Years – why? You want me to watch it with him?"

"Read to him, first… then watch the DVD? If you don't mind. I'd like to finish cleaning up the kitchen tonight."

"You don't need to twist my arm – if you're sure."

The thumps reached the bottom of the stairs and the padding of pajama-covered feet approached. Will handed her the DVD and the book. "How about Daddy reading to you?" she asked as she passed them to Woody.

"Just once?" His look was pleading.

"I think you can work that out with Daddy. How does that sound?"

"Good," came the reply and she noted the mischievous twinkle in Will's eyes.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being set up here?" Woody whispered into her ear.

"Would I do that?" came her softly teasing reply.

He stepped back from her and looked into her eyes. "Yeah, I think you would."

"C'mon Daddy," Will interrupted as he climbed onto the couch and patted the seat beside him.

Woody didn't hesitate to take Will's offer and soon found himself anxiously turning pages to find out who the monster was at the end of the book.

XXXXXXXXX

Glancing at the microwave clock, Jordan realized it was _way_ past Will's bedtime. She had managed to finish the cleanup without interruption, and realized she had lost track of time in the process. Throwing the towel she had just wiped her hands on into the laundry, she went to check on the two guys.

As she entered the living room, she could hear the end credits of Peter Pan coming from the television. She smiled at the sight of her exhausted, newly turned four-year-old son slumbering peacefully – his head resting on Woody's chest. And Woody fast asleep on the couch.

She quickly tidied the living room – picking up the few scattered toys and books – and wondered how many times Woody had discovered who the monster was at the end of the book. It had been a big day for all of them and they were all exhausted – each for entirely different reasons. In light of that, she decided not to disturb their sleep.

She turned off the television, dimmed the lights, and pulled the throw from the back of the couch to drape it lightly over the two worn out revelers. Reaching out to muss Will's hair, she bent to place a soft kiss on his temple.

Too tired to do anything else, Jordan made her way up the stairs to her waiting bed.

XXXXXXXXX

Jordan woke suddenly with a jolt of panic. The house was way too quiet. As soon as she opened her eyes, she could tell it was late morning by the way the sunshine filtered into her room. The alarm on her alarm clock hadn't gone off – even though the clock read 10:31 am. And her little man had not serenaded her into consciousness nor bounced onto her bed to wake her up… and none of the usual, very loud "quiet – don't wake Mommy" sounds were coming from downstairs.

In an instant she was out of bed, and in the very next instant she was sitting on the side of the bed – head in her hands – fighting the wave of dizziness that was the result of her attempt to get up too fast. As the lightheadedness abated, she became aware of a faint scent she had barely, subconsciously detected while she was sleeping – the perfume emanating from the dozen pink roses in the crystal vase that was sitting on her dresser.

The card, though pre-legibly signed by Will (it was a scribble to anyone _but_ Will), was obviously not written by him. She recognized the firm, even strokes that read, "Yo ho! Yo ho! Mommy. Thank you for the Pirate Party. I love you, scribble-Will-scribble (Dictated by Will and written by Daddy.)"

The sense of alarm dissipated gradually from her body as Jordan's conscious mind comprehended that Will was with Woody – and not downstairs or outside – _alone_ – _doing who knows what_. With a new feeling of calm, she buried her face among the delicate petals, and breathed the pleasant fragrance in deeply.

It was then she noticed the single red rose tucked inconspicuously beside the vase – and the card attached: "Jo – Please have dinner with me tonight? Woody".

XXXXXXXXX

When Jordan made her way downstairs, she found another note from Woody in the kitchen explaining that she had been sleeping so peacefully they didn't have the heart to wake her. They had gone to "run errands" and then they were going to lunch to a place called Chuck E. Cheese – he didn't know anything about it – but Will assured him that the food was terrific. After lunch they were going to do "guy stuff" for a while and would be back later in the afternoon. He appealed to her to rest… enjoy the break… And in case she needed to get in touch with them – he included his cell phone number.

Woody had been living in California.


	9. First Date

**First Date**

Nigel arrived a half an hour early – just to watch the fun. When Jordan had called him that morning to ask him to watch Will for the evening, he had pried it _all_ out of her.

Roses… Woody had never given her flowers before. Balloons, once – along with a ring – but not flowers. And he'd never asked her out _on a date_. They'd been to lunch, gone out for drinks, and "done dinner." They'd hung out. They'd even hooked up. But they'd _never_ been on a date. This promised to be something to watch.

Even if the beginning of the evening hadn't held such enticing entertainment potential – Nigel never needed any convincing to consent to watch Will. Besides, he and Will had been conspiring to create one of those virtual pet thingies on the Internet – and this was their chance.

Before Woody turned the corner into the living room, he heard them arguing. "Blue, mate? You really want to make it _blue_?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're sure?" Nigel's tone was doubtful.

"Yep." Will confirmed the decision with an exaggerated nod.

Woody's curiosity got the best of him and he approached the computer, in front of which sat Will and Nigel. "What are you two making blue?"

"He's a Krawk O'Dial – see? And I'm gonna name him Tick-Tock." Will was very pleased with himself.

Nigel noted Woody's look of thorough confusion and took pity on him. "We're creating a virtual pet."

"Well, that clears everything right up," Woody laughed.

"In the computer, Daddy. We make a pet and feed him and buy him things and go on 'ventures – and he lives in the computer."

"I see." Woody was working hard to hide his smirk.

"All right. If you're sure – hit the button," came Nigel's mock-exasperated voice.

Will hit the enter key and then giggled in delight as the picture of Tick-Tock the blue Krawk O'Dial was displayed on the screen.

The voice from the middle of the staircase startled them all. "You guys sound like you're having way to much fun. Why didn't anyone invite me?" They all turned to watch as she continued to descend the stairs.

Jordan was stunning in red – a detail that did not escape any of the males present. "Mommy!" was Will's elated cry as he hurdled up the stairs and threw himself at his mother, hugging her tightly. She bent to pick him up and carried him down the remaining few steps.

"Well, luv… look at you. You are _dazzling_." Nigel smiled at her, taking Will from her offering arms.

Woody, looking at her appreciatively, found his voice after another moment and managed, "You look wonderful, Jordan."

She smiled at the two men and her response of, "Thank you," was diffident, sincere. "Shall we go?" she asked, looking at Woody.

Woody nodded, not trusting himself to speak, pulled her coat from the closet, and helped her into it. He put on his own coat as Jordan gave Nigel a few last minute instructions. After one more good night kiss for Will, Jordan and Woody were on their way.

XXXXXXXXX

The restaurant was new, trendy. Dinner was delicious. The view from the oversized windows was stunning. She followed his lead. And it really was like a first date.

As the evening wore on, the level of wine remaining in the bottle decreased, and their comfort with each other increased. By the time the wine was gone, and the coffee had been served, it almost felt like old times. Almost.

Woody gingerly reached for Jordan's hand on the way to the car and, when she didn't resist, he was relieved – but reminded himself not to read too much into the situation.

Once seated in the car with the engine running, he looked over at her, smiling. "Your place, or mine?" he asked slyly.

"Why, yours – of course," she replied, not really knowing what to expect but willing to go along for the ride.

XXXXXXXXX

"You weren't kidding," Jordan remarked as Woody stopped the car in front of an apartment building just a few blocks from her house.

"Nope. I got the call this morning that my application was accepted – and there was an immediate opening. Will helped me make the place presentable."

She looked at him questioningly, "Will didn't say a word."

"He promised to keep it a secret – for just one night."

"That explains the inordinate number of giggle fits he suffered all afternoon…" Her voice trailed off. "You were that certain I'd say yes… to tonight?"

Woody looked away. She wasn't sure he was going to answer her, and when he finally did – she was surprised. Not so much by his response – but rather by the uncertain tone of his voice. He turned back to her, looking into her eyes, "No, I wasn't. I just hoped."

Jordan barely nodded, never taking her eyes from his. "Are you going to ask me in?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "come and see what we've done with the place."

Most of the kitchen equipment and accoutrements were intact, and Woody put a pot of coffee on to brew. Jordan noted the sparse decorations. The living room's main furnishings consisted of two chairs of the put-it-together-yourself variety, a couple of plastic crate end tables, and a small bookcase.

Woody walked up behind her and she turned at the sound of his voice. "We moved in what I brought with me, then we went shopping. He… Will… is really good at helping to put furniture together."

She nodded, smiling. "He is very good at holding things, passing things." Her smile broadened. " I hope you accounted for all the tools, though."

Noticing Woody's confused look, she added, "He'll try to take things apart… things you would prefer were left whole – when you're not looking." He laughed.

Jordan accepted the proffered cup of coffee, thanking him, and moved to the opposite side of the living room.

On a small bookcase against the wall – and scattered elsewhere throughout the apartment – including on top of the refrigerator – were little, metal robots. "I'm glad to see these guys made it," she said, picking up one of the robots from the bookcase.

"You are?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Yeah. Will loves hearing about them. What did he think… of them?" She glanced over to Woody.

"I guess you didn't take a close look at his room this afternoon," he replied with a smirk, moving across the room to stand next to her.

"He didn't… oh, I'm… he shouldn't have asked… you didn't have to… I'll talk to him…" she stammered, and though he enjoyed her being at a loss for words – he reached out to rest a hand on her forearm.

"It wasn't like that, Jordan. He didn't ask for anything. I asked _him_ which one was his favorite – and then I gave it to him as a thank you for helping." He looked directly at her. "And as a way of having part of me always with him at home."

"Oh." Her loss for words was now complete. He smiled at her, and after a few moments he took her hand and led her to the chairs. They sat for a few more moments in amicable silence.

"I'll finish… decorating… over time," he told her, breaking the silence.

"You travel light." She was looking around the room.

"I dumped the larger pieces of furniture before moving. I wasn't sure where I'd end up once I got here," he acknowledged.

"I would imagine it's cost prohibitive to move furniture from Southern California to Boston."

If he was surprised by her observation, it was not evident in his countenance. "More than the furniture was worth," Woody conceded. "Except my parent's bedroom set – that's in storage here. I need more muscle than just Will and me to move it… I'll talk to Seeley and Nigel later this week…"

"It's here? In Boston?" She tried to hide her surprise.

He nodded. "Always has been. I didn't want to move it until I was sure…" He let his voice trail off. _This is good… if we can just continue our forthcoming communication…_ But…

She decidedly changed the direction of the conversation. "The place is nice… You didn't have to remove any snakes, I hope." She smiled at him teasingly.

He sighed softly. _So much for forthcoming communication… for now_. "Nah, that's your move-in story." He rose and took their coffee cups into the kitchen for refilling. She followed him.

As he continued speaking he tried to suppress a chuckle. "Besides, I had my share of pests today – is Chuck E. Cheese a rat or a mouse?"

"I'm not sure. I would have warned you..."

"I know. I'm learning." Woody looked down. "This is all very new to me." His voice was reflective.

"Hey, like I told you yesterday – I'm learning too – and I've been doing this a while." She reached out to touch the side of his face; he looked up – and directly into her honey colored eyes. "It will be better with two of us."

"Why, Jordan?"

"Why what, Woody?"

"I don't know what I expected when I came back here. I tried not to expect anything – so I couldn't be disappointed. But, this," he motioned between them with his hand, palm up, "this is more than I dared to even hope for."

She remained silent for a moment and continued to look into his eyes. Her smile was subtle, her voice gentle, "He's your son, Woody."

When she didn't continue, he tilted his head toward her and waited. The gesture, so familiar, so personal – indicated he was _patiently__waiting_ for more information _from her. _It was as if the past five years were erased and, ever so briefly in her mind, they were "_them_" again.

It was another moment before she was able to continue. "He needs his daddy – almost as much as he needs his mommy. Almost." He heard the same smirk in her voice that he saw on her face when she threw out that last jab. "I've always hoped to share Will with you. And I've always had faith that when you finally met him you'd love him like I do – and his needs would always come first with you, like they do with me. Will deserves to know his father; he needs you in his life."

"And Will's mother?" Woody watched Jordan stiffen slightly at his words. He waited anxiously for her answer – which seemed an eternity in coming.

"You will always be in my life as my son's father." She stopped momentarily and the intensity of her gaze increased. "Other than that, right now – I don't know. And that's an unfair question to ask at the moment. We have a lot to work out before I can even think about what, if anything more, _we_ can be – I'm just learning who _you_ have become..."

"You know me, Jordan – in your heart – I know you do." He worked hard to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

"Woody, I fell in love with you – Farm Boy – my friend. I'd never been that close… After you were shot – you were… different. I knew you'd been through so much. I did my best to learn to deal with loving the man I started to get to know after the shooting. And then there was a glimmer of hope… for us. Until…" She paused and there was a haunted look in her eyes as she continued, "But I never got to know the man who came back to me… after Lu."

_What was I thinking when I hoped for forthcoming dialogue? _He moved closer to stand directly in front of her, reaching out to gently place his hands on her cheeks and gaze into her eyes. "Okay. Fair enough. For now." He smiled ever so slightly.

"But for the record – when we've talked everything through and it's all out in the open – and you find out _I am the man you fell in love with_… before… everything – then all bets are off. I want to be Will's daddy – more than I ever could have imagined. And I want a life with you, Jordan… I love you… I've never stopped." He leaned forward confidently and tenderly claimed her lips with his own.


	10. Monday Blues

**Monday Blues**

Mondays were so _not_ her favorite day, and this was no exception. Their routine had been broken – thankfully – by a long weekend… or so she had thought – until the weekend turned out to be such a doozy. Now it was time to regroup, recover, and get back into the routine – until it was time for the next weekend.

The one thing Mondays did have going for them was her standing lunch date with Lily. They'd been going to lunch together at the beginning of the workweek since the sometimes trying days of her pregnancy. The lunch dates had often served as reality checks – and on this particular Monday that was exactly what Jordan needed.

Lunch had been ordered and as they waited for their chimichangas Lily's curiosity was getting the best of her. "Hey, Jordan… That was a great party!"

"Thanks. Um… Better turnout than I expected." The answer seemed flippant but Lily did not miss the irony in Jordan's voice. It was not the response Lily was looking for, so she continued.

"How's it going? Everything, I mean?"

"Good. Well, you know…"

"I do?" Lily tilted her head. "Back to the same old, same old?"

"No. Well… no. It _is_ different this time." Jordan looked up from stirring her iced tea.

"Different?" Lily asked. "Different, how?"

"Just… different. I'm not quite sure how to..." Jordan began distractedly stirring her iced tea again.

"Well… What _are_ you sure of?"

Jordan sighed. "That the whole thing is… I don't know."

Lily laughed softly. "Jordan? What's up?"

Jordan shrugged. "We've stepped right back into this comfortable… annoying… thing…" She could see Lily was confused so she tried again. "It's comfortable having Woody around – so familiar. But I get annoyed – with myself – for feeling comfortable with him."

"And that bothers you?"

"No. Well, yeah… I guess it does."

"Why?"

"He can't just waltz back in here and expect everything to be the same." For the first time since the conversation began Jordan faced Lily directly.

"Does he… really?

Jordan was slow to answer and her response was soft. "No."

"Okay." Lily waited for her to continue.

"I was… confused… when he left. And then Will came along. _We_ are doing fine… and I'm not sure I'm prepared… I'm not willing to feel that vulnerable… again – to Woody and his whims. I'm past putting up walls – but I'm not ready to build bridges, either."

Lily nodded as she waited for Jordan to continue. Previous conversations with her friend had reinforced Lily's suspicion of Jordan's predilection to emotional wall building.

"It scares the hell out of me. Caring again. And then he could leave."

"You said it's different this time."

"It is. And there's so much more at stake now. It's not just me anymore. Woody spent the whole day of the party taking care of Will… getting to know him… and Will has accepted him – in a way only Will can..." Jordan's voice trailed off.

"And it bothers you… that Will likes him?"

"No, it's not that." Jordan paused briefly. "I don't want Will to get hurt."

"Do you think Woody would do that – to Will? To you?"

"I don't think so… but, I don't know… not really. I didn't think he'd leave the first time. And I thought he'd come back to Boston when I sent the letters telling him about Will. But he didn't. It's easy to say I understand his actions – I do, you know, on some level – understand his need to get away. But it's so much harder to really accept… all that has happened… everything. There are too many implications of what it all means. My mind says one thing – but there are still those nagging doubts. I'm just not sure I know Woody anymore."

"Are you afraid he'll try to take Will away?"

If Jordan was shocked by such a blunt question, she didn't show it and her answer came without hesitation or uncertainty. "No."

Lily smiled, "Then may I suggest that you do know Woody. More than you're willing to admit."

Jordan nodded thoughtfully and sipped her iced tea. She sensed the hesitation before Lily began again. "How was your first date?"

"Word gets around. Or, should I say, Nigel gets around." Lily could tell by her smile that Jordan was not upset. "The _date_ was good. Woody found an apartment – we went there for coffee after dinner. He still has the robots."

"I'll bet Will's gonna 'love those guys'," Lily laughed.

Jordan nodded, "Already does. Woody gave him one. I'm having a heck of a time convincing him he can't sleep with it."

Lily chuckled, "Good luck with that."

The food arrived and they both made a dent in their meal before Lily continued. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing." Jordan responded between bites of her food.

"You're going to sit on that fence again?" Lily's voice betrayed her surprise.

"No," Jordan smiled. "This time I'm staying on my side of the fence, behind the gate."

"You were upset… before… when you thought you had waited too long…" Lily chided.

"I knew how I _felt_ then."

"You don't know how you feel about Woody anymore?"

"It's not that." Jordan looked away, out through the window. It was another few moments before she faced Lily again and continued. "I know how I feel about him... that's never changed. I just don't know if we've grown enough to give _us_ a chance… And maybe, with our history, we're better off… as _friends_."

Lily gathered the nerve to continue, "I guess it wouldn't be the first time that parents who were… _friends_… raised a child…"

Jordan nodded, grateful for what she saw as a lighter, more hopeful side of the situation. "They're good together. Woody and Will. The daddy thing seems to come naturally to Woody. It feels like there's already a bond there… it's funny… in a good way."

"I saw them – at the party. I think you're right. They looked natural together." Lily searched Jordan's face for any indication of what her friend was feeling – but it was a neutral mask Jordan wore.

"It is right. Good. For Will." Jordan agreed.

Lily's look was disbelieving. "This isn't all about Will…"

"Right now… "Jordan smiled sadly as she looked up from her plate and directly at Lily, "that's all it can be. "


	11. Monday Blues Too

**Monday Blues Too**

It was his own fault… he knew that. He never imagined coming back to work for BPD would be easy. The fact was – he hadn't allowed himself to think about what returning would be like – at all – just in case he'd feel the need to back out.

Monday wasn't half over and he had already encountered many of the attendees of his son's birthday party. He had also bumped into, literally – and quite unexpectedly – the one detective he knew who had not been invited to Will's birthday party. Lu.

No one had told him Lu was still working homicide. Of course, it hadn't occurred to him to ask. But, it would have been nice to know – about two and a half hours ago as he raced down the precinct hall – it would have been nice to know.

It was nearing lunchtime and he found himself on his way to the morgue – without any business in particular – but hoping to find her. When he discovered her office was dark he headed for the break room reasoning that even if Jordan wasn't there he'd probably be able to scrounge up a couple of slices of bread and some peanut butter. Rounding the corner into the break room, he found himself face-to-face with Nigel.

"Is Jordan…" Woody began.

His tone was so hopeful. Nigel cringed inwardly as he answered, "No. Sorry mate."

"Oh. I was hoping… you haven't seen her… have you?"

Nigel shook his head, "Not for a while."

"She is in today, though…?"

It was obvious that Woodrow was fishing – but Nigel was not biting. He would, however, offer up a little something. "Lunch?"

"Huh?" Woody's surprise at Nigel's proposal was evident.

"Would you. Like. To go. To lunch?" Nigel offered again, slowly this time.

"With you?" Woody's bewildered look amused Nigel.

"Right, mate. We could do a little catching up – you know – get to know each other again. After all, you are the _father_ of my nephew. Seems only fitting." Nigel smiled innocently.

Woody was not completely convinced that "re-bonding" was the whole motive. "Yeah, sure… yeah. That would be… good. How 'bout that chimichanga place…"

"Actually, there's a new deli I've wanted to try. I understand the food is great and it's becoming quite _the_ place. Since we're going early enough, we should be able to get in and out on a lunch break." _And it's in the opposite direction of chimichangas and Lily and Jordan._ "What about it?"

Woody wasn't sure why – but he got the feeling Nigel was purposely steering their lunch away from… JordanHe knew, however, that asking Nigel about it was not going to enlighten him in the least. This was not the first time Woody was conscious of the loyalty lines being drawn in the sand.

XXXXXX

They arrived at the deli and ordered before the crowd descended – Nigel wasn't kidding about the popularity of the place. And Woody had to admit the food was good. Nigel, however, seemed much more interested in conversation than lunch.

"So, how has your morning been, Woodrow? First day on the job… Getting back into the swing of things?" Nigel's questions were earnest – and without guile – for which Woody was grateful. He was still trying to get a feel for where he stood with everyone.

"Better than I dared expect… in most ways." Nigel did not miss the way Woody's voice trailed off.

"Most ways?" Nigel smiled conspiratorially. "Do I detect a note of reticence? Come on mate – you can trust me." Nigel studied him another moment, noting Woody's silence.

The realization finally dawned on Nigel, "Ahhh, you encountered Detective Simmons."

Woody looked up and into Nigel's eyes and saw the teasing there – but no malice. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"How did that go?" Woody was surprised by the concern in Nigel's voice.

"Fine," Woody answered. "There wasn't much to it."

Nigel watched Woody carefully. "Just a little left over…"

Woody shook his head slightly, "Nah. We were over before… before…"

"Jordan left town after Pollack's murder?" Nigel helped him out.

Woody nodded. "There wasn't much to say. Seeing her just took me by surprise." Woody smirked at Nigel, "After all, she wasn't at Will's birthday party."

Nigel laughed. He hadn't missed Woody's discomfort at talking about Lu and he quickly decided there was no harm in elaborating. "No. She isn't a part of Will's inner circle. As popular as he is – Jordan really is selective about who gets to hang around with him… with her. It's always been like that – especially during the pregnancy. Not many people were privy to the identity of the baby's father." The look on Nigel's face indicated his mind was far away. "I think she kept it that way to protect herself. She was so hurt… confused."

Woody's voice pulled Nigel from his reverie. "But you knew. You sent the letters for her."

Nigel nodded. "Right. And I did manage to have a bit of fun with it… Detective Simmons asked me once – while Jordan was expecting – who the father was."

Woody didn't say anything, but tilted his head and waited for Nigel to continue.

"I told her it wasn't me… and left it at that." Nigel smiled, "That was fun for a while. Even when Will was born – if you didn't know his full given name – the father could remain anonymous. But the older he got, well, the more _undeniable_ his parentage became."

It was Woody's turn to smile, "You think he looks like me?"

"You're kidding, right?" Nigel laughed when Woody's smile became broader.

Though Woody seemed content to leave the conversation where it was, Nigel continued to explain that Jordan had worked with Detective Simmons on several occasions and that they were "fine" together. "I don't think they'll ever be friends, mate. But, Jordan seems to be of a mind to keep her friends close…"

"And her enemies closer?" Woody asked raising an eyebrow.

"She's not exactly Jordan's enemy, Woodrow… just a person of interest." Nigel chuckled. "Besides, Lu has always liked me."

Woody rolled his eyes.

They ate in silence for a few minutes and Nigel felt the mood shift before Woody spoke. "Thank you for watching out for Jordan. For Will."

"That's what friends do, mate. Besides, he's a barmy lit'l bloke – a kick to be around…"

"The letters, I mean, and all that…" Woody would not be deterred.

He watched Nigel's expression cloud over and wasn't surprised when Nigel didn't answer. His curiosity increased exponentially and he had to ask. "Why, Nigel? You could have contacted me, made me come to my senses… You knew where I was…"

Nigel nodded slowly but made no immediate answer.

Woody again became aware of the loyalty lines that had been drawn long ago and was pulled from his contemplation when Nigel finally spoke softly, "That's not what she wanted."

"That's not what she _said_ she wanted. Maybe she was just keeping that silly promise." Woody was trying to comprehend.

"Keeping the promise wasn't silly to her… and it wasn't only the promise." Nigel's eyes pleaded for Woody to understand. "It was not what she wanted."

Woody shifted uncomfortably – the pain was so evident in Nigel's voice as he continued. "If you ever returned, it had to be because you wanted to – not only because you felt obliged."

"But…" Woody began but fell silent when Nigel raised his hand in a motion to deter him.

"That's some of her… um, challenge… now," Nigel continued. "You feel an obligation to Will – and to her because she's the lad's mum. And you are who you are."

"Who is that? Who do you think I am, Nigel?"

"Are you serious?" One glance at Woody told him that the detective was sincerely waiting for an answer. He acquiesced. "Right now, I think you are who you think convention expects you to be," Nigel responded frankly, unwaveringly meeting Woody's gaze.

Woody opened his mouth to speak, but slowly closed it. He nodded slightly, lowered his eyes to study his hands, and waited for Nigel to continue.

"You will never win her until she is sure you are here because you love _her_. Not because Will is your responsibility – and not because you think she is your responsibility."

He watched Woody, who was now studying him intently as he continued, "Not because you can fix her. Not because you can save her. Not because you need her."

Nigel paused and waited for Woody to meet his gaze. "She deserves to have you here because you want her. Because your life would be diminished without her. Because she makes you feel the way she makes me feel – because she's Jordan."

The meaning of what Nigel had just confided pressed down on him and he found it hard to take a breath. Finally Woody was able to croak, "You love her."

Nigel's eyes locked with his own. "Surely this is not a surprise to you," Nigel chuckled.

"No. Um. Yeah… yeah?" Woody felt the childhood stutter returning and tried to will it away. "How long?"

Nigel looked away as if he was thinking and answered, "Always." He turned once again to face Woody and reiterated, "Always, mate."

"Does she… does Jordan… know?" Woody was not sure what to think of the sheepish smile that spread across Nigel's face when he asked this. And his heart sank when Nigel nodded.

"How could she not, Woodrow?" Nigel's soft voice matched the wistful look in his eyes.

"But she… she never…" Woody was having trouble making sense of any of this.

Nigel leaned back in the booth and rested his head against the wall. "No? Why would she? We've never spoken of it."

"But…" Woody's confusion was evident.

"Jordan is my friend, Woodrow. She means the world to me. She and Will are my family. My love for her… for them… is _unconditional_." Nigel sat forward again to face Woody directly. "That is enough. For me. For us." Again Nigel smiled, a bit sadly this time. "Because her heart doesn't belong to me."

If it was possible, Woody's chest tightened even more at Nigel's words. He felt the hopeful "happily-ever-after" world he had built in his mind for Jordan and Will and himself crumbling around him – but he managed to whisper, "Then she's seeing someone."

"If you could call it that." Nigel's optimistic smile was reflected in his eyes.

And Woody was thoroughly bewildered by his friend's… _I thought Nigel was my friend_… amusement?

Nigel could tell Woody didn't get it. He let him stew a bit – and then continued. "Jordan's heart has belonged to a certain detective almost since George Senior escaped and Hillary was shot trying to rob a certain bank."

He watched Woody trying to process what he was attempting to communicate. Finally, Woody asked slowly, "What makes you think…?

"Ahhh, Woodrow, Woodrow, Woodrow – it has always been obvious to most of us who know you two…"

"It has, huh?" Woody dropped his head down to face his plate but continued to look at Nigel from the corner of his eyes.

Woody was reassured by Nigel's hearty laugh.

XXXXXX

They each retreated into their own thoughts and a companionable silence enveloped them as they finished their sandwiches.

Nigel could almost see the wheels turning in Woody's head. He smiled to himself – but his face remained impassive. He knew Woody would be thinking about their conversation for a while to come, and he hoped Woody would come to understand how much Jordan – and her little tyke – meant to him… to everyone.

He knew Jordan was trying to come to terms with Woody's sudden reappearance – and all the possible implications. Even if Jordan wasn't ready to admit her feelings for the blue-eyed detective, even if she was willing to leave the Wisconsin farm boy floundering – did that mean he had to?

Nigel had watched Woody learning to fit into his "daddy" role all weekend. He had seen the look in Woody's eyes whenever Jordan was around – or even came up in conversation. He'd also seen the way Jordan looked at Woody when she didn't think she was being observed.

This lunch conversation with Woody had managed to clear a lot of things up in Nigel's mind. It was evident to Nigel that Woody's vacillation over his relationship with Jordan had come to an end. It was good to know that despite the time and distance – he was still that deceptively backward, apparently unaffected, seemingly naive detective from Small Town America.

Woodrow, it was clear to Nigel, was as much an enigma as Jordan – he was just better at disguising it.

XXXXXX

With lunch finished and a few more minutes to relax, Nigel leaned forward to engage Woody's attention once more. He smiled inwardly as he remembered asking the same question he was about to pose a few years ago – in an entirely different setting – for entirely different reasons. And he dared to hope there would be an entirely different outcome.

"So, Woodrow, what are your intentions toward our dear girl?"


	12. A Matter of Will

**A Matter of Will**

He heard the commotion almost immediately after he rang the doorbell. He could barely separate the thump, thump, thumping from the unmistakable chant of, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," which seemed to be coming ever closer from behind the closed door. When the door swung open Jordan moved aside to let him in out of the freezing weather. He could see her mouth moving and tried to read her lips – but he couldn't really make out anything she was saying – until she turned away from him and said, _"Wilson!" _in a not-very-loud but no-nonsense tone. And the ensuing silence was complete except for the methodical ticking of the Grandfather clock in the corner.

Their son stood frozen four steps from the bottom of the staircase and he was staring resignedly at his mother. "Mommy?" He spoke in a voice considerably quieter than the shrill call he had used all the way from his bedroom to that very spot.

"Yes Will," Jordan sighed, looking at the apprehensive child.

"Daddy's here, " he stated, giving her his most disarming smile.

"Thank you, Will," Jordan said, turning away so he could not see the grin spreading across her face.

Woody put his hand to his mouth, pretending to cough, in order to stifle the laugh.

Woody watched in admiration as Jordan almost instantly regained her composure and turned back to face Will. "Would you please show your daddy where to hang his coat and gloves? And then come to the kitchen – Daddy's going to show us how he makes his Marinara…"

"For puh-sketti?" His eyes twinkled.

"Yes. For spaghetti," Jordan nodded.

"K Mommy!" Will exclaimed. And before either Jordan or Woody comprehended what was happening, Will called, "Daddy!" as he launched himself in Woody's direction.

Woody could not ever remember being as thankful for quick reflexes as he was at the moment his giggling son landed in his arms and against his chest with a terrific thud. The wind was momentarily knocked out of Woody, but he was able to maintain his footing. Woody heard Will giggle, "Do it again!" just before he heard…

"_Wilson!" _in a slightly more frantic, not-very-loud, but no-nonsense tone than he heard a few minutes before.

And the bundle in his arms froze with the barely audible utterance of, "Uh-oh!"

Jordan was beside them in an instant muttering breathlessly, "Are you all right? Woody?" She began to reach for Will to pull him out of his father's arms and allow Woody to catch his breath – but she was deterred by the scene in front of her. Will was nestled close to Woody's chest hanging on to the lapels of his jacket for dear life and beseechingly looking up into his father's eyes. She ended up placing one open hand tentatively on Woody's back and the other on Will's tousled head as she leaned in to kiss him gently.

Woody pulled Will closer to him and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead before he spoke. "I think you frightened your mother, Will."

Woody felt and Jordan saw the little head nod against Woody's chest. "Very sorry, Mommy," came the sincere little voice as his parents' gaze met over the top of his head.

"Do you know that was dangerous?" Woody asked as he moved to a nearby chair and settled down with his son on his lap.

Will sat up and glanced from his mother to his father before he responded, "Why?"

"Because I wasn't ready. I could have missed – because I didn't know you were jumping," Woody explained. "And I wouldn't want to drop you…"

"'Cause I could get hurt?"

"Right," Woody acknowledged with a nod.

"And then Mommy would be _really_ mad at you," Will stated as a matter of fact.

"Right." This response from Woody sounded a lot less confident to Jordan's ears. Then she heard him add, "I think…" under his breath.

"K! Then next time I'll tell you '_catch'_ before I jump!" Will proclaimed triumphantly. He squirmed off of Woody's lap and began pulling him by the hand to get up. "C'mon Daddy! I'll show you where you put your coat."

"Are you in a hurry?" Woody asked – just a little bemused.

"Yup. I'm hungry." Will grunted as he tugged on his daddy's hand, leading him to the coat rack. "C'mon, c'mon…" he giggled as Woody pulled back against him making Will work harder and harder to progress down the hallway.

XXXXXXXXX

"That went well…" Woody announced as he entered the kitchen following Will.

"Uh huh!" was Jordan's response, "Wicked good!" she added with an impish twinkle in her eyes.

"Any suggestions? A better way…?" he began before she silenced him with a ranch dressing-dipped celery stick.

"Nope. It's on-the-job training... and it's unpredictable," Jordan answered as she dipped a celery stick for Will.

"What's un-pre… what you said – Mommy?" Will asked as she handed him the celery stick.

"That's _unpredictable_ – and you are," Jordan said as she handed Will a napkin.

"K," was his muffled answer – he was now more interested in his celery than the answer to his question.

Jordan turned back to Woody, "I hope I've anticipated all your needs…" she began as she motioned to the groceries spread out on the kitchen counter top. She did not catch the double entendre until she became aware of the silence and looked over to see Woody smiling at her suggestively.

The sound of the stepping-stool being scooted across the kitchen floor interrupted – thankfully – any further exchange as they noticed Will moving toward the counter where the container of ranch dressing sat next to the vegetable sticks. Jordan gave Woody a demure smile before she cautioned Will, "No double dipping… do you hear me?"

"K," Will nodded as he busily dipped a carrot stick.

XXXXXXXXX

"That was nice, Jo," Woody said as he stretched out on the couch.

"Thanks. It was… and it went so smoothly. I can barely remember the last time…" her voice trailed off as she handed him a mug of coffee.

"What?" he looked up at her inquisitively.

"Nothing. It was… nothing," she said softly, retreating to the opposite end of the couch.

"Jordan… It's never _nothing_ when you use that tone of voice. What were you going to say?"

She looked at him and smiled slightly, "The last time I had the kitchen cleaned up, the living room picked up, and Will bathed and in bed this early in the evening…" She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Dad was here to help…"

"I'm so sorry, Jo. I've never told you…" She wasn't surprised when his voice trailed off, but was a bit taken aback at the sight of the tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

Jordan nodded, unable to speak. They sat in silence for quite a while before Woody went into the kitchen to refill their coffee mugs. When he returned he sat down next to her on the couch, facing her at an angle, and handed her the steaming mug.

"Well, we agreed to continue our talk… which piece do you want to start with?" Woody began.

Jordan groaned, "You're not back on that Humpty Dumpty thing again, are you?"

"You remember that?" came the astonished reply. "Perhaps you could play the part of All The King's Women?" He wagged his eyebrows at her – resulting in her not-so-ladylike snort. "It was worth a try," he murmured.

He watched helplessly as Jordan's mood changed – he could see it in her movements – then he heard it in her voice. "I remember that last week like it was this morning, Woody." He had to strain to hear her voice as she continued, "It was no surprise that you were gone… that morning… after… You always were."

She searched his eyes for acknowledgement and he nodded almost imperceptibly before she continued. "We did fine in the light of day. Anyone watching would think…"

"Days were a level playing field, Jordan. It was _easy_ being your sidekick... it came naturally. It was comfortable… normal." He grinned at her.

He watched as she carefully considered her next words. "The nights were…"

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Yes…" he challenged her.

She smiled and he watched the flush rise in her cheeks.

"Go ahead, Jordan, finish… the nights were – what?"

"You were there. Are you telling me you don't remember?" came her flippant reply.

"Uh, uh, uh. You brought this up. Tell me, Jordan – what were the nights?" His voice was low and he moved closer to her so that she could feel the heat from his body against hers. When she looked down at her hands, he lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers and she found herself staring into the blue depths of his eyes.

"You were there, Woody. You know what those nights were."

"Say it… Jordan. Say it…"

She reached over and touched his cheek gently, hesitantly with her fingers. The pain in her eyes and in her voice tore at him. "But it didn't matter because those feelings were all gone by the morning."

His intake of breath was shallow but sharp, "Is that what you think? Really?" He studied her momentarily before he continued. "I… I didn't think you wanted to be seen as a couple. You never had… before…"

She sighed softly as she silently pondered his confession and the twist it put on… everything. Unable to escape their _history… _the fallout continued. Her personal demons again were wreaking havoc on her happily ever after.

Jordan sighed again before she responded. "It never worked, you know." Her eyes twinkled when she smiled. "_We_, apparently, were the only two people who didn't know the secret… that we were a couple."

"Funny… Nigel told me almost the same thing. Were we that oblivious?"

She laughed. "You really have to ask that – considering we're having this conversation?"

"Yeah, well… point taken."

He could tell she had slipped back into the middle of a memory before she continued, her voice weak, "That morning, when I woke up – I knew it was different. I knew, somehow, you were not coming back."

Woody watched as Jordan pulled herself from the painful reverie. Her voice was stronger when she spoke again. "Did you find it?" she asked with a quizzical look. What you were looking for… a way to put it back together?"

"Yes… and no. It depends."

Her raised eyebrows and slight nod in his direction implored him to continue.

"I convinced myself, before I left, that it was all a matter of _will_. _My will power_. I knew I needed to get it all together... my life… us… and I kept failing miserably. I couldn't believe I was so… weak… out of control. By the time I decided to leave Boston I was really beginning to worry… I couldn't always restrain the anger, couldn't have a _normal_ relationship, and I couldn't face you." He looked into her eyes, unflinching, as he continued.

"I just knew that if I couldn't keep from hurting other people, if I couldn't keep from hurting myself, I had no right to be a part of Jordan Cavanaugh's life." He paused to smile at her.

"I ended up in Southern California, as I'm sure you've figured out. I had an… unofficial… standing job offer there."

"Sunset Division." Her voice was matter-of-fact. He nodded.

"The work there was good, the people were great, I found my niche right away, and my life… it went on autopilot.

I kept busy. I tried to keep too busy to think… about anything. I especially tried to keep from thinking about what… whom… I left behind – until… well, a long time later… I met a girl – and she asked me out. She had short blond hair and a sweet disposition, and it took me a while to realize she reminded me… of Lu." He didn't miss the pain in Jordan's eyes, but he steeled himself to continue.

"Working with my… therapist…" he glanced at her coyly, "I recognized… Lu…" He took a deep breath before he continued. "She was one of my attempts to sabotage my relationship with you," he finished quickly.

"One of?" The sound of her voice surprised him.

"Yeah, yes… Lu… and when I used you to find Riggs after… I was shot… were probably my two biggest… attempts." Woody watched a brief shadow cross Jordan's face at this admission.

He cleared his throat, and continued. "I met Lu before we, you and I, finally began to work things out… um… after the shooting. After I said what I said."

"She was your psychologist," Jordan interjected.

Woody nodded, "She cleared me…"

"Before you were ready," Jordan's voice was emotionless.

Woody nodded again and smirked at her. "It seemed like a good idea at the time?" She heard the pain behind his words.

Jordan returned his smile. "At least to one of us." Woody was surprised when she reached out to place her hand on his forearm. He rested his hand on top of hers as he continued.

"It felt to me like things were getting better. Between us, you and me, I mean… we were getting back to being _us_ again. And if I pretended that the reporter…"

"J.D." Jordan interrupted.

The tone of her voice caught Woody off guard and he stopped to really look at Jordan when she said this.

He had been of a mind to just get everything – everything – off his chest and out in the open. No matter how hard it was for him. He would admit all his faults – _mea culpa_ – and beg forgiveness – and all would… he hoped… be right with the world. Or at least with Jordan's and his world.

Looking at Jordan now he was unceremoniously reminded that this had to be a _two-way _exchange – and that only half of the experiences, thoughts, emotions… expectations… involved were his own. He had, in the past, ended up kicking himself because he hadn't taken the time to _listen_ to her before. He'd be damned if he'd make that mistake again. And yet… _he almost had_.

"Right. J.D." Woody agreed. "If I pretended your relationship with J.D. Pollack didn't exist…"

"But it did." The forlorn note in her voice made Woody groan inwardly.

He nodded and took both her hands in his. "But we were getting there, Jordan. We could almost have been friends again. And then we managed to get snowed in, together, _away from Boston_."

She noted his hesitation and squeezed his hands in encouragement – but she remained silent.

"I was so confused after _that_ night… the night… at the Lucy Carver Inn. While we were at the Inn, I was more… content… than I can _ever_ remember being. And then we had to return to Boston… J.D. Pollack... reality…

…_The fact that we had cheated_. No matter what I thought of Pollack – it wasn't about _him_. It was about _me_ – I did something I would never want done to me... something I didn't think I was capable of… I slept with _another man's girlfriend_. Even if that _girl_ was _you_… and even if _I loved you first_. Deep down, it still wasn't _right_. No matter… how much I loved you."

She studied him carefully before she spoke. "We were in _that_ fix together, Woody. And you didn't trust me enough to give me the time I needed to work it out… to make it right… to come clean so we could move on." It was a statement; her voice was without accusation.

He nodded. "Even after the reporter… um, Pollack… was out of the picture, I was still confused. Nothing in my relationship with you has ever been simple or straightforward, Jo – my emotions get so jumbled – and I used that to justify my behavior _to myself_. I didn't want to be your 'rebound guy' – that was what I told you. And you bought into the excuse – you said 'too soon.' That's not what I was going to say, but – it would do. I used that to begin pulling away – creating a distance between us.

Then Lu kissed me." He looked sheepishly at Jordan before he continued. "And it was _all too simple_ – a girl, a guy, a relationship – built on… _nothing_. Lu _needed_ me, she told me that she felt safe with me, and _it made me feel good_. I liked feeling needed."

"And I didn't need you?" He could tell by the look in her eyes that the question was sincere.

"Nah. You never did. You were fine without me." She wasn't sure what she detected in the tone of his voice… disappointment? Admiration?

"I was better with you. It was always more fun that way." When she laughed he remembered how much he always loved the sound of her laugh, loved the way it made him feel… and he was glad for it – the next part was going to be difficult.

"Lu didn't back away when I made a move to be intimate; it came quickly and way too easily." He looked down at their hands; he did not have the heart to look into her eyes. "But it had no foundation. Lu didn't call me on my outbursts, my anger, my confrontational attitude. We never fought… or even really argued. We kept everything on the surface. That way – we never disappointed each other."

"And I disappointed you… often – and a lot." The matter-of-fact tone in her voice augmented the guilt he felt.

"Never." He held her hands tighter and waited until her gaze locked with his. "I got… frustrated… because you're… _complicated_. And I couldn't… can't… always figure us out – but… you've never – ever – disappointed me." The look in his eyes begged for understanding and Jordan nodded.

"Lu… she made excuses for me about minor flaws in my 'otherwise perfect self.' Lu and I never took time to really get to _know_ each other, to _like_ each other, to be _friends_." He heard her sharp intake of breath – but when she didn't say anything, he continued.

"I'd used that word – _friends_ – to create a distance between us… THE WALL – if you will – your word. But I know now that it is the '_friends'_ part that lasts – being _friends_ is the real foundation I need to build a lasting relationship. Friends stick together when things get tough… Friends sometimes _frustrate_ each other, _but they know they will survive_… _together_. Friends trust each other…"

"Need each other?" Jordan questioned.

Woody shook his head as he answered, "Want to be in each other's lives… It's not need – but more a – mutual desire. Too bad it took me so long to figure this all out."

She waited for him to continue. Realizing she wasn't cutting him any slack, he took a deep breath. "The next thing I knew, you walked in on me and Lu… and you were okay with it. I mean, you were really all right with – you know – Lu and… everything." He looked into her eyes, searching for – he wasn't sure what.

"I was," came her simple acknowledgement.

"But… I wanted you to _want_ me." It was a raw confession.

"I did." Her eyes did not leave his as she spoke.

"What?" He choked, incredulous.

"I wanted you. I loved you. But I'd been… we'd been… through it before."

"Before? I'm… I'm… not…" he stuttered.

"It was déjà vu, you know? And my feelings went dormant. Everything in me went dormant. Again. Like before. How could it not go dormant? Like before…" her voice trailed off as she searched his eyes for any understanding of what she was trying to tell him.

"I couldn't be an after thought. Or second best. I had to be _the one_. I didn't want to spend my life wondering."

"Like before?" His question was also a statement.

She could tell he still didn't understand. She nodded and replied, "Like when you were exploring your relationship with Devan."

"You knew about that, huh." He looked down to study their hands again. "I'm sorry. It wasn't meant to hurt you."

"I understand that's what you think. But deception always hurts." Her words were without rancor. "It all started _again_ when you chose not to be forthcoming with me about your relationship with Detective Simmons. And when I walked into your new office – in on you and Detective Simmons – it became clear to me that – despite… or maybe because of… our history, our feelings – I had been a one night stand." She gently released his hands and leaned away from him into the back of the couch.

His heart sank into his stomach. He shook his head and looked up once more to make eye contact with her, his eyes pleading with her. "No, Jordan… no. That's not… ugh. I am so, so sorry." He dropped his head into his hands.


	13. I'll Think About It

**I'll Think About It**

He heard the singing as he approached the break room. Entering the doorway, he spotted her standing in front of the coffee machine waiting for the pot of coffee to finish brewing. Catching sight of him, Jordan greeted him with a very cheerful, "'Morning, Nige."

"You're exceedingly chipper on this chilly, middle of the holiday season, way-too-early morning."

"'_It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year'_, Nigel. The decorations, the lights… the carols… _'Joy to the World'_ on a _'Silent Night'_… _'We Wish You a Merry Christmas'_ because _'Here Comes Santa Claus'_ with _'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'_. You know." She radiated the spirit of the season.

"Bah. Hum bug." Her mood was contagious and he smiled back at her. "I must admit, _'It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas'_."

"There you go. That's the spirit…"

"And to what, pray tell, do we owe this abundance of exuberance?"

"Will is really beginning to understand what's going on – for the first time – this year … he's having so much fun. It just gives the whole _'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas'_ thing a new meaning."

"And some of this holiday cheer – would it have anything to do with a certain detective – and father of your child – being _'Home for the Holidays'_?"

"Not a thing." He noticed she would not meet his gaze.

"Ahhh. You don't really expect me to believe that, do you luv?" He chuckled. "It's me you're talking to – remember? I've been here with you the whole time – we've shared every Christmas and New Year's celebration since Will's arrival…"

Now she did look up to meet his eyes. "I remember."

With the coffee ready, he poured each of them a mug and they moved to the table to sit down. "Then, tell me – Jordan… What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"With everything being so… hectic…"

"Yes?" His stare was penetrating.

"I really haven't had time to think about it. Um… I just don't know."

He studied her, his eyebrows raised. "Oh, I think you _know_ more than you'll admit…"

Jordan shrugged her shoulders, hoping to casually avert this conversation. But Nigel persisted…

"I remember a time not so long ago… all you wished for was a second chance."

"Yeah." _Not so long ago – when Woody wasn't… here._

"Well. It seems to me you've got that chance… if you're willing…"

"To step up to the plate?"

"I think I've heard that somewhere before." He paused to take a sip of his coffee, "The more things change…"

"I know, I know… the more they remain the same."

"But they don't have to, Jordan. You're not really the same, anymore – are you?" Nigel wondered if she had any idea how much she had changed since Woody walked out of her life before Will's birth. How much she had… softened. How much the independence she always exuded had been tempered with a quiet, unobtrusive strength. He looked at her over the rim of his mug, "Why fall back into old habits that didn't work in the first place?"

"Old habits die hard?" Her sigh didn't escape him.

"So, what's it going to be, luv? You can't make him wait forever. Are you ready to face those scary emotions and give a real relationship a try?" Nigel reached out to take one of Jordan's hands in his own. "Or would you rather run away to a nice, secluded, exotic island… with me?" With a wag of his eyebrows, he flamboyantly moved their hands to his mouth and placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand.

"As good as that sounds…" she smirked, "I can't solve this by running… or hiding."

"Who are you? And what have you done with the Jordan I know and love?"

"I'm serious, Nige."

"So am I." He considered her carefully. "Isn't avoidance the same thing as running and hiding?" She shot him a pointed look as he continued, "What _is_ going on with you two?"

"We're working on it."

"Oh?"

"We've been… talking. Trying to…" She caught the skepticism in his eyes. "We're… working things out."

"Talking, luv, will only get you so far – if you get my drift." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"We're getting to know each other again," she deflected.

"There's a _lot_ to be said for _communication_. And oh, so many ways to achieve…"

"You're not going to go into detail, are you?"

"If you insist…"

She groaned, laughing. "I get your point, Nige."

"And…"

"It's complicated."

"It doesn't have to be, luv." He watched her roll her eyes at him. "Just give it some thought."

"I will. But not right now."

He waited for her to continue.

"Right now, I have to _'Deck the Halls'_ to make sure our _'Winter Wonderland'_ is ready for _'The Night Before Christmas'_."

"And that _'Jolly Old Saint Nicholas'_ has all the right gifts for a certain young man who has been very good this year?"

"Yeah, he's got the 411 on presents this year, too. He has been counting them, shaking them…"

Nigel chuckled. "Not like the days when the packaging kept him busy for hours. Speaking of presents…"

"Where are you taking him this year? He loved the Natural History Museum last year."

"Salem." Her raised eyebrows compelled him to continue, "Come on, luv. There's more there than just old houses and witches."

"Do tell," she prompted.

"There's a Pirate Museum, a Pioneer Village, a Tall Ship, America's oldest candy company…"

Jordan raised her hand to stop him. "Sold. Salem sounds like the perfect place for a weekend getaway for _you two_."

"Are you sure, luv. Things have changed… with Woody – with his daddy – back. I wondered…"

"_Things_ haven't changed _that_ much. You're still his uncle – and I don't think Will would understand if you didn't take him… Nige – he looks forward to your weekend 'ventures'. And with Dad gone…" He noticed the slight crack in her voice, but mercifully ignored it. She took a shaky breath; "I just think it would be good to keep things as _normal_ for him as we can."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. You're our family. Besides, when you take Will for the weekend, I can work a few extra hours – get caught up on paperwork – without feeling guilty about taking time away from him."

"And I'd hoped you'd find something… more fun… to do with your free time than work." He wagged his eyebrows at her again.

Jordan rolled her eyes, "All right. I get the point."

"And…"

"And I'll think about it."


	14. Home For the Holidays

**There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays**

Except for Santa Claus and the Christmas Baby, Will's favorite part of this Holiday Season was…

"Kiss him! Kiss him! Mommy – you _have_ to!"

…mistletoe.

XXXXXXXXX

And he had enlisted the help of his daddy to place it ALL OVER THE HOUSE. Mistletoe now hung above every doorway – including the bathrooms and…

"The coat closet? Why the coat closet?" was Woody's disbelieving query as his son handed him the next ribbon-tied sprig to be strategically placed.

"Just in case someone wants to _hide in there_," came the whispered, earnest reply.

"Who, Will, would hide in the closet?" But Woody quickly changed the subject when he detected Will's reluctance to answer. He did, however, commit this tidbit of information to memory.

XXXXXXXXX

"Kiss him!" Will's chant continued as Jordan tried to unobtrusively scoot past Woody on her way into the kitchen. At their son's insistence, Woody's arms snaked out to grab Jordan and he planted his lips firmly, chastely against Jordan's.

Will giggled.

With such an appreciative audience, Woody continued the invitation with his lips while he stealthily twisted, moving closer and pulling Jordan tightly against his chest so the full length of their bodies made contact.

Will giggled louder.

Jordan opened her mouth to allow Woody's tongue access to her own, and Woody groaned softly in surprise, "Jordan?"

It was at that moment Woody felt the tug at his belt as he realized their giggling audience was now right beside him. He gently pushed back from Jordan and, while keeping her close to him with one arm – he reached out with his other arm to scoop Will up – sandwiching him firmly between their bodies. The giggling increased significantly as both he and Jordan began planting kisses all over Will's face.

When the doorbell rang, Will stiffened in anticipation and began wiggling to get down out of his parents' grasp, "K. K. K Mommy," he squirmed. "K Daddy," he wriggled. His tone quickly became admonishing and conveyed his growing frustration. "They're here. They're here… lemme go… please…" he pleaded.

Both of his parents were laughing as they released Will to rocket toward the front door.

Woody turned his attention to Jordan, whose gaze was down turned as she once again attempted to shimmy past him. His hand, placed lightly on her shoulder, brought her to a halt. He softly touched her cheek and slowly brought her face up so he could see her eyes. Tenderly he implored, "Jordan?"

Her smile was timid, almost uncertain, as she nodded.

"Jordan, we have to…"

Her gentle, hesitant kiss stopped him. As she pulled back, she whispered, "Later, Woody… Okay?"

He found himself bewildered, nodding, "Yeah, later…" as she finally managed to squeeze past him and into the kitchen to check the progress of their Christmas Eve meal.

XXXXXXXXX

The frantic cry, "It's Aunt Lilly. It's Uncle Bug. And they have _presents_!" came from the foyer.

Woody hurried to greet their guests. He gingerly hugged Lily and kissed her cheek before taking the proffered green bean casserole from Bug's outstretched hands. The gifts he left to Will – who carefully found the proper place for them under the Christmas tree.

The doorbell rang again while Woody was still in the kitchen trying to find a place to set down the casserole. He glanced up at Jordan and smiled as he heard the wild call, "Uncle Nigel!"

A distinct, "Umph!" followed and Jordan looked at Woody and rolled her eyes.

"I'll go see," he offered, leaving her to monitor the progress of the meal.

By the time Woody reached the front entrance, Will was comfortably snuggled in Nigel's arms and they were walking toward the living room. Woody followed them and noted that everyone seemed to be making themselves comfortable. He caught up with Nigel. "You all right?"

"Woodrow... good to see you. Fine, mate. Why do you ask?"

"I heard… from the kitchen…"

"Ahhh. That. Seems that as our young Will grows, he is getting harder to catch in mid-run." Nigel smiled and leaned his head against Will's.

Nigel noticed that Will's eyes kept returning inquisitively to Lily. Or, more precisely, to Lily's expanded abdomen. He spoke softly into Will's ear, "What is it, mate?"

"Aunt Lily."

"Yeah… remember – Mommy told you that Aunt Lily and Uncle Bug are having a baby?" Nigel's voice was soft, but Woody could make out what was being said.

Will nodded in answer to Nigel's question and his eyes were wide. There was a look of concentration on his face as he whispered, "Yeah. I 'member… But…"

"But what, kiddo?" Nigel prodded.

Will hesitated another moment before he whispered, very loudly, "Did she swallow it?"

Nigel looked around for help – in time to see Woody's retreating back – as he returned to the kitchen to help Jordan. It was safer there.

XXXXXXXXX

Leave it to a little lot of mistletoe to liven up the evening. Will spent much of his time spying to catch any two adults together in any doorway. The adults spent much of their time playing his game and laughing at the result.

When Will caught Nigel and Jordan trying to pass each other in the living room doorway, the occupants of the house joined Will in chanting, "Kiss… kiss… kiss."

Nigel treated Will to a showy display, dipping Jordan backward as he kissed her gently and then whispered in her ear. The look on Jordan's face when she was returned to an upright position told a tale of teasing.

Woody, curiosity piqued, later cornered Jordan, "What did Nigel whisper to you?"

"It was nothing," she said as she tried to step around him.

"It was something, Jordan. I could tell by the look you gave him. Come on – what was it?"

They were both surprised by the British accented voice approaching them. "I simply pointed out, dear Woodrow, how fitting a decoration mistletoe is for this house."

"Why's that, Nige?" Woody just had to ask. Jordan tried to back away to escape the conversation as Woody unobtrusively reached around her waist to anchor her to him.

Nigel looked on in amusement. "Because, mate, once mistletoe takes root – it's a _full five years_ before it blooms."

XXXXXXXXX

The talk after dinner eventually turned to the approaching arrival of "Baby Lily Bug" – as Will was now referring to the new baby. The latest ultrasound films of the baby were making the rounds of the room and Will was very intrigued. He had always been partial to his "inside Mommy" baby pictures in his baby book – although it was clear now how little he really understood about the concept.

Will sat on Nigel's lap studying the film. They had identified the head and the tummy and made the fascinating discovery that the baby was sucking on his or her thumb. Nigel, feeling quite daring, asked "How about you, Will? Would you like a baby brother or a baby sister?"

The room fell silent.

Jordan's eyes shot daggers at Nigel.

Woody groaned.

Bug and Lily were completely still.

Garret shook his head.

Quite unaware of the adult discomfort permeating the room, Will scrunched up his nose and shrugged his shoulders. "No. A dog would be fine."

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief and Woody couldn't tell if Jordan's smile was more triumphant or relieved. He wasn't surprised when she quickly tried to turn the conversation to a safe topic. "Have you decided on names yet?"

Lily's response was enthusiastic. "Bug and I like Jasmine for a girl," she said gently squeezing Bug's hand.

"But a boy's name has been a little more difficult," Bug confessed. "We haven't been able to agree…"

"Garret has always been a favorite of mine," came Garret's tongue-in-cheek interjection.

"Or Nigel. Good, strong name," added Nigel.

"Since when?" Bug laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone else laughed at Nigel's brief display of mock indignation.

Not to be left out, over the laughter – Will offered his suggestion, "What about Grover? Grover is a good name for a boy."

"Hmmm. That's a good suggestion, Will. Grover…" Lily nodded and she and Bug smiled at each other.

"Like the 22nd and 24th President of the United States – Grover Cleveland," came Woody's enthusiastic observation.

Will's sigh was exaggerated as he corrected his daddy's unsolicited outburst, "Like Grover. Loveable Furry Old Grover." Will stated precisely. He looked up at Aunt Lily and Uncle Bug to make sure they understood the important clarification. "He's the Monster at the End of the Book."

XXXXXXXXX

After a quick bath, Jordan brought Will back downstairs wearing his new Christmas Eve pajamas. "Time for good-night hugs and kisses. Ladies first…" his mommy coached.

Will made his way over to Lily. "My, my… look at you. Are those Kermit-the-Frog pajamas?" she asked to Will's delight.

"Yup. And we match… look," he said triumphantly holding out his Kermit-the-Frog doll. "Daddy got them for me… and he gulps flies. Listen." Will proceeded to demonstrate… squeezing one flipper to produce the buzzing sound. Then squeezing a foot to make Kermit gulp the fly.

Lily looked up at Jordan, her eyes twinkling. And Jordan smiled back at her friend and nodded – wordlessly acknowledging all the wonders of the journey called motherhood.

Will continued to make the rounds – kissing and hugging – until he reached his daddy. "You promise you'll wake me up if you hear him – right?"

"I promise," Woody said as he pulled Will into a hug.

This was way too much for Nigel's inquisitive nature. "Hear who, mate?"

"Santa. Daddy's listening for Santa for me tonight 'cause I never hear him to wake up."

"Oh, you want to catch the Jolly Old Elf in the act – is that it?" Nigel couldn't help but smile.

Will nodded. "And Grandpa's room is closest to the roof AND the chimney."

"Ah, so Daddy's staying in Grandpa's room so that he can be on the lookout for Santa…" Nigel observed as he looked at Jordan.

"It's their first Christmas morning together…" Jordan began to interrupt in order to explain the situation. But it was Will's authoritative clarification that stopped any further discussion…

"Daddy can sleep in Grandpa's room tonight. It's K. But he has to get out as soon as Grandpa comes home from Heaven."


	15. A Better Way to Say It

**A Better Way to Say It**

"Another date, luv?" Nigel had to hand it to dear Woodrow – he was turning up the heat. Not a week had passed since Woody had been back in Boston that he hadn't spent the evening with Jordan and Will at least twice and taken Jordan out on a date… just the two of them… at least once.

Jordan grimaced at him. "Not an inquisition, Nigel. Just an answer – please. Will you take care of Will tonight?"

"And you'll share all the juicy details?" He wagged his eyebrows at her.

"Not a chance," was her deadpan response.

"In that case…" he said, walking to the door of her office and then turning back to face her, "what time do you want me there?"

She smiled up at him from the piles of paperwork she was attempting to process. "Thanks, Nige," she answered with a quick grin before she turned her attention back to the document in front of her. "Six would be great."

XXXXXXXXX

Serious. That's what this whole thing was. Seriously.

He had been wining and dining her for weeks. He sent her flowers and gave her a beautiful, unthreatening, non-diamond necklace for Christmas. Seriously trying to convey to her how special she was to him.

He had been diligently subjecting himself – well, both of them, actually – to in-depth, spill-your-guts and bare-your-soul "chats." Seriously working to get to the bottom of their relationship, clear the proverbial air, and put them both in the same chapter – if not on the same page.

He had been giving her time to process everything and figure out how he fit into her life – all the while reveling in the easy camaraderie they had reestablished and marveling at the symbiotic partnership that had reemerged. Seriously hoping she was coming to the same conclusions as he was about their ability to coexist and – hopefully – eventually – cohabitate.

He had been a perfect gentleman. He was attentive and appreciative of her, he pitched in to help with Will every chance he could, he made himself available to her whenever she needed anything, and he continually, intentionally repressed the reality, urgency, vitality of his desire. Seriously avoiding the issue of his dreams, fantasies, longings – and all their physical manifestations.

He remembered what it was like to have her in his bed and he knew what he was missing every night when he returned to his apartment alone. He also recalled very clearly what is was like to not have her in his life – and that was not an option. And so he deliberately proceeded with caution.

He had hoped by now they would be closer to some kind of resolution… reconciliation… reunion. But he refused to become discouraged or lose patience because this time there was too much at stake. This time he had to do it right. This time he was playing for keeps. Seriously.

XXXXXXXXX

"Taking down Christmas decorations was not what I had in mind when I asked you out tonight, Jordan."

"Ah, but it's necessary for my sanity. Tomorrow is New Year's Eve." She stopped the explanation there.

"Is that supposed to make sense to me? What has tomorrow being New Year's Eve got to do with… anything?"

She handed the final box of decorations to Woody so he could slide it into place in the attic. "Will wants to stay up to see the ball drop on New Year's Eve."

"Oh-Kay."

"He really just wants to stay up until midnight – the ball is an excuse."

"Oh-Kay."

"He may just make it until midnight this year – and then he'll either need to sleep in on New Year's Day… or he'll be grouchy. In either instance – I won't be able to get the decorations put away before work the next day."

"Okay. I think I've got it. This is a necessary parental compromise…"

Jordan was nodding, "In order to maintain sanity." She walked over to the kitchen doorway and began to reach up, "Besides, this mistletoe has got to go... I have had enough."

Woody's hand on hers halted her action. "You know in France, kissing under the mistletoe is a New Year's tradition rather than a Christmas tradition." He was standing right next to her under the mistletoe.

"Then it's a good thing we're not in France." She found herself gazing up into his eyes.

"Oh, but it's a good multicultural lesson… for Will… don't you think?" he said just before he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was tender, intentionally chaste, brief.

She relaxed into him momentarily and then moved away from him slightly before she spoke. "I've been doing some thinking."

"That has been known to be dangerous." Woody teased, hoping to keep this evening's "chats" light.

She chose to ignore his comment. "We've tried this… um… therapy style. Talking through everything. And, don't get me wrong," she rushed before he could object, "it's been… informative. It has given us a place to start."

"I feel a 'but' coming." He took note of the slight increase in distance between them but was determined to hear what was on her mind before his overly active – and doom saying – imagination put a slant on it.

"You've changed… I've changed… since…" she grappled.

"Yes?"

"…since we conceived Will."

He had to agree. In some ways, his return to Boston was like stepping into a memory. At other times, though, he felt like he was in the middle of someone else's life.

"I don't think we are going to be finished talking about what happened in our past for a very, very long time…" letting out a breath, she added, "…if ever."

This made him extremely uneasy. "What are you telling me, Jordan?"

The length of the pause before she responded exponentially increased his anxiety. The look in her eyes veiled whatever was going on inside her head… and her heart. He was not sure what to expect…

"Why did you come back to Boston? What is it that you want, Woody?"

His first night back in Boston – his reply to that question had been that he wasn't sure what was possible.

On their first date – he had shared with her his desire to be Will's daddy and to have a life with her.

Now, all evasion was gone. His reply was simple, straight from his heart – and he didn't take time to think about it – it was out of his mouth before his brain could self-edit…

"You."

And her reaction was just as straightforward and unedited. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it… that's…"

She moved closer to him, the heat of her body making it more difficult for him to follow the direction of the conversation, to put his thoughts together. The stammer was back and he was powerless to stop it, "Jo… Jo… Jordan… What… what… um… I can't think with you…" he blurted out as he tried to back away from her increasingly close presence.

She was aware that his back was now in contact with the doorjamb, and he was unable to back up any further, before she spoke again. "We have tried, Woody, to say everything we have bottled up inside. To put it all in words. To make sense of everything that has happened to us and because of us…" Her honey-colored eyes were gazing earnestly up into his.

He opened his mouth to speak but she laid a finger gently against his lips to silence him. "Like I said, I've been doing some thinking… and I believe there is a better way to say it… We have the rest of our lives to try to figure out what went wrong and who, if anyone, was at fault. We can make up for those… indiscretions – as we go along."

"Make up?" His mind was reeling as he attempted to make sense of what was happening. He didn't dare try to imagine what was going on in her mind. Mercifully, she didn't leave him floundering long…

"I've always enjoyed make-up sex."

"Jordan – what… what are you… um…"

Her body was against his, her arms now loosely around his waist. She looked up into his eyes. "Are you going to kiss me?"

"What?"

"If you're not sure… I mean, if I misunderstood your intent…" she queried softly.

He shook his head, dumbfounded. His recovery was quick and his lips found their way to hers – lovingly, uncertainly. Until she opened her mouth and stroked his tongue with her own – deepening the kiss. He wasn't sure whether the deep, soft moan he felt was his or hers. He pulled her tighter against him.

XXXXXXXXX

"Jordan, we have to slow down. I didn't expect… I don't have anything…"

"I have it covered. I've taken care of protection… After all, I seem to remember that our previous attempt was defective, Detective."

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You've been thinking about this for a while."

Her voice was soft when she responded, "Only for the last five years."


	16. Deja Vu

**Déjà Vu**

"Good morning, luv. And how are you this fine Spring…"

"Ugh." She cut him off. "It's the flu Nige. I just can't seem to shake it."

He studied her carefully. Her misery was evident. "Same as last week?"

She didn't see him raise his eyebrows because she had leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes tightly as she fought another wave of nausea. When she finally opened her eyes a few moments later, he was standing directly in front of her desk, looking down at her… smiling?

"What's funny? I feel awful."

"Ahhh. Nausea? Vomiting? A bit emotional?" The tone of his voice… was that teasing?

"Yeah. Ugh." She moaned.

Nigel nonchalantly picked up her desk calendar and began fingering the pages absentmindedly while he spoke. "This _sickness_ has been hanging on for weeks now…"

She nodded in response.

"No fever… usually worse in the _morning_… and you haven't figured out yet what has caused it?" He casually tossed the calendar in front of her on the desk and turned to go. "When you're up to it… your presence has been requested in…" he called out over his shoulder as he made his way to her office door.

He heard the distinct sound of calendar pages being ruffled before he heard the, "No!" Which was immediately before he heard the sound of the thunk her head made when it hit the desk.

Nigel turned back to face her when he reached the doorway. She sat forward in her chair with her head down on her desk as he finished, "…Autopsy One. I'll see you there, luv."

Bug was walking past Jordan's office as Nigel was exiting. Looking into the office he noticed Jordan with her head on the desk. "What's with her?"

Nigel glanced at Jordan one more time before he put his arm around Bug's shoulder as they continued down the hall. "Well, Buggles, it seems that deNile isn't _only_ a river in Egypt."


	17. Getting the Runaround

**Getting the Runaround**

"It's simple, Jordan. Really it is. I love you. You said that you love me. We're expecting a child… our second… and I want to marry you."

"It's not that easy," she moaned.

He almost felt guilty bringing this up – again – first thing in the morning when the nausea was at its worst. Almost. "I never said it was easy, Jo." He was looking at her with his eyebrows raised. "I said it was simple." She could hear the plea in his voice. "I don't think anything has ever been _easy_ with us," he added under his breath.

"Look, Woody. This… between us," she waved her hand, "has been… working. Why don't we just continue – like it is now – for a while? Give it some time. Not make any hasty decisions."

She heard him groan but didn't dare look up at him just yet. "Hasty decisions, Jordan? We're having a second child. What on earth…"

"You do like to restate the obvious." He could hear the teasing in her voice and he couldn't help but smile. When their eyes met she continued, "We're taking Will to Disneyland next week. Let me think about it until we get back. Let's just go on vacation, put everything aside, and have fun…"

"Like a family…"

She ignored his interjection. "We can make… this can wait until we get back."

He wasn't up to any more discussion. Turning off the faucet and handing her the warm washcloth he had been running under the hot water, he kissed the top of her head. "We're not finished with this, Jordan," he mumbled as he left her alone in the bathroom.

"Yeah," she moaned to herself. "At least not for another six months."

XXXXXXXXX

"All set?" Woody mussed Will's hair as he bent down to zip his son's suitcase.

"Wait, wait… can I take…"

"That's enough stuffed animals. I think you have more toys in there than clothes."

"But, Daddy… Kermit… he'll be lonely."

Woody ran his fingers through the back of his hair. "I'll tell you what… we can squeeze him into your backpack. You can carry him on the plane with you."

"K." Will hugged his daddy's legs. "Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, buddy," Woody answered, patting Will's back. "Now, is that it?"

"Do you have Uncle Nigel's phone number?" Will asked looking up at Woody.

"Yes." He responded hesitantly. "But… why do we need Uncle Nigel's phone number?"

"I promised to call him."

"You did, huh?"

"Yep." Will nodded. "He'll miss me… but I can't take him. 'Cause he has to work."

"Then it's a good idea to call him. Do you want me to write the phone number on a piece of paper so that we both have it?"

"K," Will said. "I'll get it!" he called running down the hall to the telephone table to fetch a pen and paper.

Jordan entered the doorway. "Do I dare ask what all the running around is about?"

Woody looked up at her as he tried to wedge Kermit into the overstuffed backpack. "He promised to call Nigel… I offered to write the phone number down for him."

"That's a good idea." She smiled at him.

Finally getting the zipper closed, he sighed and sat down on Will's bed. "Those two are close."

Jordan nodded. "They always have been. After Dad… Nigel has always been there for him… for us."

"I'm glad," Woody responded softly as he studied her. She looked tired. He knew she hadn't been sleeping well lately… the morning sickness hadn't let up – and sometimes it seemed to last all day. She needed this vacation – even more than he did. And he was looking forward to being away from everyone, everything… just the three of them.

"Got it," came Will's triumphant cry as he bounded past his mother into the room.

Woody deliberately wrote the phone number clearly on a sheet of paper. He then carefully folded the paper and secured it in the outside pouch of Will's backpack. "There you go, pal. Now, are we ready to go?"

XXXXXXXXX

"Uncle Nigel?"

Nigel had been waiting for this phone call for days. He had missed hearing the little voice that was on the other end of the line for almost a week. "Hello, mate. I've been waiting for you to call. How're you doing?"

"Great."

"What's your favorite ride so far?"

"The whale…"

"There's a whale?" Nigel gasped in mock surprise.

"Yep. He opens his mouth," Will's voce became conspiratorial, "and swallows boats."

"Now, that sounds… dark." Nigel couldn't help but smile at the seriousness of his small friend. "Were you scared?"

"No… no… he sneezed his tail off." He heard Will giggle. "The boats come out the other end."

"Must be messy."

He was rewarded with another giggle and, "No, silly."

"Are you having fun at Disneyland?"

"Um hum."

"How are your mommy and daddy doing?"

"Great. Mommy's good. Except for the throwing up."

"Ahh, she's still doing that?"

"Yep." There was silence for a moment and then one of Will's best stage whispers, "I think she got it from daddy."

Nigel paused a moment, caught totally off guard. "What makes you say that, kiddo?"

"Well…" Nigel could picture the scrunched up face Will was making as he reasoned out what he was thinking. "I _didn't_ have a stomach ache. But, maybe daddy _did_… the other week… and he gave it to Mommy." He sounded as if he had solved a great mystery.

"Oh, you think?" Nigel really hoped Will could not hear the laugh in his voice.

"Yep… And you know what else?" Will didn't wait for an answer, but rushed on, "I'm getting a baby brother?"

"You are, are you?"

"Just like Aunt Lily and Uncle Bug's baby Jasmine… only a boy."

"How do you know?"

"Mommy told me."

"Your mommy told you that you're getting a brother?"

"Well… not zacly. Mommy said we're getting a baby. I said I'm getting a brother… and his name is King Arthur."

The chuckle escaped before Nigel could catch it. But he quickly achieved control enough to continue. "And your mommy and daddy are all right with that?"

"Not yet," Will stalled. "I haven't told them yet."

"I see." Nigel smiled to himself thinking how he'd like to witness that conversation. "Have you had enough of Disneyland yet? Are you ready to come home?"

"No… no…" Nigel detected a mild note of panic in Will's voice. "We just got here!"

"But it seems like you've been gone so long."

"I know," Will huffed in annoyance. "Mommy surprised Daddy. She made us stop at Lost-Vay-Gus first."

"Las Vegas?"

"Yep. They have a pirate ship and real pirates and cannons… they were too loud. And there are white tigers. I really like those guys."

The side-trip to Las Vegas served to pique Nigel's curiosity, but he didn't want to ask too much. "That sounds like fun."

"Mostly," came Will's earnest reply. "Except for the church place. That wasn't so much fun. I had to be quiet in there."

"Ahh, you went to church?" Nigel waited expectantly.

"Kinda. But not the same as at home… with Father Paul."

"It was a different kind of church, huh?"

"I still had to use my quiet inside voice." Nigel smiled to himself wondering if having to be quiet was Will's definition of 'church.' Then Will continued, "Daddy and Mommy got new rings… and I got to throw stuff at 'em… not hard, though. But you know what else?"

"What else, mate?" Nigel was convinced of two things at this point in his chat with Will. First, he was sure that Jordan was not listening in on this conversation. And secondly, he was not at all certain he comprehended this exchange correctly. That is, until Will generously provided additional clarification…

"When we get home, Daddy is going to bring his robots and come and live in our house all the time. But not in Grandpa's room… and I don't have to share my room… Mommy said Daddy will sleep in her room."

"Will, did your mommy and daddy get _married_?"

He heard the dramatic sigh before Will answered, "Yeah, silly. That's what I just _been telling_ you."


	18. A New World

**A/N: **I'm not too sure about this rating for this chapter, so I changed the rating – just in case.

**A New World**

"What are you doing here so late?"

Lily looked up from her paperwork and smiled. "Catching up..." As an afterthought she added, "And taking a sanity break. It's Bug's bonding night."

Woody, his hair sticking up in its familiar, stylishly haphazard way, leaned against the doorframe and smiled back at her. "He's home with Jasmine?"

Lily nodded. "Besides, I'm almost finished here. I only came in for a few hours. What about you?"

"Meal break. I came for the peanut butter," he grinned and Lily noted that her friend still had the most charming, dimpled smile. "Hey, would you like to join me for a cup of decaf and half a sandwich?"

_How can I resist?_ "Yeah, that sounds good, Woody. It _has_ been a while."

XXXXXXXXX

"I never really minded working late," Woody sighed, leaning back heavily into the booth of the 24-hour diner just after they'd ordered.

_There've even been times in my life that one shift slid into the next and I never really noticed. There've been times that I've looked forward to working late… when Jordan was on duty. And I'd find myself needing to check on something over at the morgue. Well, _someone_… actually._

"But now – with Jordan at home on maternity leave…" his voice trailed off.

Lily looked at him with a knowing smile, "Did you ever think you'd be able to say that?"

"Once… I honestly… No," he looked at her intently, "at least not for a long time."

"You gave up on her?" Lily's voice reverberated surprise.

"No. Never. I just… I gave up on me."

"Oh, Woody."

The silence was painful and Lily was glad when Woody spoke again. "Tell me. How does this 'bonding' thing that Bug is doing tonight work?"

"He's got it easy tonight. I fed Jasmine before I left. He just had to bathe her, play with her, and get her to sleep." Lily watched Woody as he fiddled with his silverware. "Are you nervous, Woody? About the pregnancy? The baby?"

"No. No. Well… yeah," he nodded. "I've never done this before. It's not new to Jordan, but… well…"

"Right. I hadn't really thought about that," she replied empathetically. "From what I've seen – you and Will…"

"But _babies_… they're so… _little_," he countered.

"You'll get the hang of it… And, according to Jordan – you're a natural."

He looked at her intently, "Jordan said that?"

"Yeah," Lily nodded in confirmation just as their food arrived, offering a break in the conversation. Once they both started eating, Lily's curiosity finally got the best of her, "Did Jordan really waylay your vacation and take you to Las Vegas?"

Woody affirmed with a nod, his eyes sparkling. "The best waylay of my life."

"You mean she really surprised you? You didn't suspect anything?" Her voice betrayed her skepticism.

"Not a thing," he shook his head. "I was so wrapped up in Will and keeping an eye on him. Have you ever noticed how fast he can move? And how quietly…" He looked up at Lily grinning before he continued. "Jordan had the tickets. It was all I could do just to keep up with her… with Will and the luggage. When we got to the gate to go to Las Vegas… instead of Southern California – I was a little confused. But she said she had promised Danny McCoy that if she ever got out west again she'd stop by to see him."

"Again?"

"When she and Max took Will to California one time – ummm – I guess Danny McCoy met them for a day at Disneyland." Woody was looking at his plate, concentrating on his meal, not daring to meet her gaze.

"Didn't that bother you? Going to visit her old beau?"

"I guess. A bit." Lily watched him squirm uncomfortably.

"When did you figure out the real reason she wanted to stop in Las Vegas?"

"We were in the room at the Montecito. Jordan asked me to grab her iPod out of her carry-on. I didn't find it right away… but I _did_ find the box with the set of rings I'd bought for her. And another ring box."

"You didn't know she'd brought the rings?"

"Nope. I left her rings in a safe place… _in my apartment_. And I had no idea she'd bought me a ring. She kept putting me off – didn't want to make any _hasty_ decisions about marrying me." He looked at Lily sheepishly.

Lily couldn't help but laugh. "So she had it all planned?"

"As much as she could, I guess. But she didn't expect to find me down on one knee when she turned around to find out why it was taking me so long to find her iPod."

"You asked her then?"

"I asked her then. Again. And she finally said 'yes'."

Lily reached out to put her hand on his. "I don't think I've ever seen you this happy, Woody." He squeezed her hand. "And your story is much more romantic than the one Nigel got out of Will."

"I'm not surprised. Will was more excited about throwing _rice_ at us than at what was happening between us."

"That. And I heard Will's really glad you're sleeping in Jordan's room and he doesn't have to share his."

She enjoyed watching a slight blush rise in Woody's cheeks as he admitted, "Yeah, me too."

XXXXXXXXX

"This is nice, Woody. We haven't taken the time to talk like this since…"

Woody shook his head, "You came to my apartment to see my '56 Robbie and stayed for spaghetti."

"Wow. That seems so long ago. So much has happened since then… And the baby – she has changed _everything_. I've already started measuring my life as 'BC' and 'AC'."

"What…?"

"Before Child and After Child," Lily chuckled.

"I think I know what you mean. When I first came home… Jordan… she'd sometimes say things Will would say. Things she'd never say before…"

"Like…"

"Wicked. That was Will's word for a while… still is."

Lily nodded enthusiastically. "Funny, I was thinking about that just the other day… about change. How life goes by and everything seems to stay the same – for so long. Then all of a sudden one day you realize that everything, _everything_ has changed. And the world is _new_ – it's a different place than it was the day before or the week before or the year before."

Lily's smile was gentle and the look in her eyes told Woody that her mind was somewhere else. When she finally focused on him again her voice was sweet, "Jasmine has done that for me… changed the world, I mean."

XXXXXXXXX

All too quickly their encounter had to come to an end. Lily had a warm bed and sleeping husband waiting for her. And Woody had a date with a stack of paperwork.

He walked her to her car and made sure she was safely inside with the engine running before they said good night.

"Good night, Woody. This was nice." She squeezed his, which was resting on the edge of her partially opened window.

"Well – have a _wicked_ good evening, Lily." Woody grinned at her and squeezed her hand back before he watched her pull away into the night.

XXXXXXXXX

As Woody worked his way through the mountain of paperwork, the conversation with Lily kept playing back in his mind. The world did look _different_ these days. He knew his world had changed – like Lily's – and he, too, found himself measuring his life BC and AC. But, there was more to it for him. He realized that he was looking at the world through a different set of eyes. Through the eyes of a daddy. A daddy who took his job, if possible, even more seriously than before Will entered his life. Because now he wasn't only doing his part to make the world a safer place – it was personal. He was making the world a safer place for Will and their yet-to-be-named baby.

XXXXXXXXX

The silent warmth of the house enveloped him as he entered. Making his way quietly up the stairs to their bedroom, he noticed the night light on the dresser glowed dimly and he smiled at the realization she had been waiting for him. Once his gun was carefully locked and secured away from where little hands could reach it, he shed his clothes and turned to their bed.

She was lying on her side facing away from him as he slid his naked body in behind her and snuggled closely, spooning against her backside and noting her nudity. His hand instinctively reached around her expanded waist and splayed protectively across her rounded abdomen. He was rewarded with a few slow rolling movements and then a solid jab to his palm.

"You woke her up. Again," she cooed.

"Umm," he breathed, gently nibbling Jordan's ear. "I woke _him_ up."

"What makes you think this baby is a 'him'?"

"His name."

"But, Woody… we haven't decided…"

"King Arthur… remember?"

"How could I forget?" He felt her laughter against his chest. "Will decided on that at the same time he spilled the beans about us getting married."

"If I remember correctly, it was you who gave him the phone to call Nigel."

"I must have been preoccupied."

"Yeah?" He kissed his way down her neck. "You were having trouble keeping your thoughts straight?"

"My thoughts, Detective, were perfectly straight," she gasped.

"Just like right now?"

"Umm hmm," she groaned lowly, turning her head to catch his lips with hers. He immediately deepened the kiss feeling the arousal spread through his body and settle heavily in his groin.

XXXXXXXXX

Not that this position – behind her – wasn't satisfying for him. As large as she had become and the way she was carrying the baby, this was the position Jordan found most comfortable. But he missed watching her face as he moved in her – as they moved together.

He clearly remembered the moment of his release that created this baby. The look on her face that night had taken him to new heights – or, more accurately – new depths, he smiled to himself.

And so, the news she tried to so gently break to him all those months ago had not come as much of a surprise. He had seen and felt the changes in her early on. Way before she was willing to admit the possibility. He hadn't been around during any of her first pregnancy – so he kept telling himself that it was his imagination or, more likely, that he was mistaken.

Then one night she showed up unexpectedly at his place as he was preparing to go to her house for dinner. She said they needed to talk – which made him a bit nervous. She looked tired… and worried. He impulsively pulled her into his lap and rubbed her back as she relaxed against him. After a few minutes, she reached into the light jacket she was wearing and pulled out a plastic stick. Handing it to him gingerly, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He studied it for a moment and then ventured, "Does two lines mean…"

Jordan nodded against his chest without looking at him, "We're pregnant."

The whisper in her ear must have sent chills up and down her spine because he felt her shiver against him slightly, "I'm not." He kissed her cheek gently, "I'm not sorry at all."

And, if truth were told (though he wouldn't yet admit it to her) he thought of the conception of this child as a blessing. Jordan Cavanaugh-Hoyt, his best friend, his lover, was now his wife. His very pregnant wife. And they were a family – of three… soon to be four. These days he spent a lot of time counting his blessings.

This pregnancy, from what he could tell, had been "normal" – with the morning sickness he'd rubbed her back; for the few cravings he'd made a couple of midnight runs to the store; after the occasional nightmare he had held her tight; and the increased libido he had taken full advantage of and fully enjoyed. The mood swings, however, were much less of a blessing and more of a challenge.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody's hand rested once again against Jordan's abdomen. "Has King Arthur gone back to sleep?"

"I think so," came Jordan's satisfied yawn.

"Hey, what do you think happened to Will's desire to name a baby 'Grover'? At least that had a Presidential ring to it."

"His interests are changing," she observed, a hint of melancholy creeping into her voice. "He doesn't ask for us to read _The Monster at the End of the Book_ three times every night any more." The tone of their dialogue had changed from only moments before and he tried to mentally brace himself.

"Right… now it's only twice," he joked, in an attempt to keep the conversation light.

"I'm serious, Woody." With great effort and a little help Jordan rolled onto her other side to face him. "He's starting to take interest in the things big boys like."

"Peter Pan is still his favorite movie, Jordan."

"He just watches it for Tinkerbell…"

"And that crocodile still says, 'Tick-Tock.' Which is not exactly a grown-up assertion."

Not at all deterred, she complained, "He is growing up so fast… too fast."

_It's just a mood swing. _Woody counseled himself, pausing before he continued. "Will is not even in Kindergarten yet."

"But he'll be five soon," she moaned.

_Four-going-on-five is hardly grown up_. He managed to bite his lip before _that_ tidbit escaped. "We'll have a new baby to enjoy soon," he comforted softly instead – desperately trying to gauge her reaction.

"Wilson will _always_ be my baby," she pouted a bit petulantly.

The silence was deafening and when he finally responded his voice was barely audible, "I know."

Something in Woody's response made her breath catch. In that instant Jordan saw the pain… of so much wasted time… of all the memories of Will's infancy he'd missed and would never be his… reflected in the unfathomable depths of his haunted blue eyes.

Chiding herself for her thoughtlessness, Jordan placed her hand gently on his cheek as she felt the tears stinging her eyes. "I know," she whispered.

And he believed she did.


	19. Happy Birthday

**A/N: **I'm wrapping this up. I promise. Just two chapters after this to tie up loose ends. Thanks to everyone who has read the story. And double thanks to everyone who has read and taken the time to review. It has helped to know whether anyone is interested, and valuable to making the story better. I'm compelled to write; sharing, for me, has taken a bit of courage and a leap of faith. Again, no profit is being made and I don't own any of these characters, but they sure have been fun to play with and I'll put them back unharmed.

**Happy Birthday**

The fallout from their Las Vegas sortie continued. Turn one four-year-old's imagination loose in a city that boasted, among other extravagant things, a pirate ship, an Egyptian pyramid, a medieval castle… And the result was an invitation to Camelot – calling on all Lords and Ladies, Knights and Damsels to join Wilson Cavanaugh Hoyt (formerly Wilson Hoyt Cavanaugh) as he celebrated his fifth birthday.

XXXXXXXXX

Jordan was determined to give their son a birthday party he would remember.

Woody was determined to keep the mother of his child… children… as happy, healthy, and relaxed as she could be in her ninth month of pregnancy.

When Will announced he wanted a King Arthur birthday party, Woody had given it a lot of thought…

"It can work, Jordan. We can feed our guests fried chicken… or… pizza."

"Finger food?" _The perfect fare for a medieval party. _"That could be fun," she conceded.

"And we won't have to do any cooking."

"I'm perfectly capable…"

"Your capability is not the issue here." He wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You're ready to deliver, Jordan. The doctor said it could be any time."

"The baby's due date is still the 30th. Which is _after_ Will's birthday and _after_ Thanksgiving."

"Why make it hard when it can be so easy? Finger food – pizza… carrot sticks and dressing." She didn't miss the pleading quality of his question.

"Cupcakes?" She added, trying to come to terms with his request for simplicity.

"That's it. Easy." He moved close to her, taking her into his arms.

"You're right. Easy does sound good," she admitted, absentmindedly rubbing her extended abdomen.

With the decision made, it didn't take Jordan long to convince Will that there was a great probability that King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table had commonly enjoyed pizza, veggie sticks with ranch dressing, and cupcakes.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody took his son shopping for themed decorations and returned home with matching invitations, plates, napkins, and…

"A dragon pin-otta! And a sword!" came Will's excited exclamation.

Jordan turned to Woody, "Translation?"

"A dragon piñata… and a new sword."

"So… what… the dragon can be clubbed with a sword-shaped stick until he gives up his loot?" Jordan laughed. "What is it with boys and swords?"

"Actually, it's a pull piñata – the kids pull the ribbons instead of hitting the piñata. One of the ribbons is attached to a trap door that will release the goodies." He smiled at her. "Less chance of someone getting hurt. And the piñata survives so that…"

"Another 'decoration' for Will's redecorated room?"

"He is giving up all the…"

"Baby stuff? I know, he's told me. The Winnie-the-Pooh lamp has to go." She saw how carefully Woody was watching her for any sign of meltdown, and she smiled.

"And the sword?" she asked, motioning to their son as he struck an Errol Flynn-like pose.

"It makes real sword fight sounds…"

"Well, then… that explains it," she rolled her eyes at him – as if she'd never indulged the boy.

XXXXXXXXX

As his birthday approached, Will's anticipation increased and with it his level of excitement. The night before his birthday it took them hours… a bath, six readings of _The Monster at the End of the Book_, and a half hour back rub to get him to sleep.

When a weary Woody finally found his way to their bed, Jordan snuggled back against him enjoying his nakedness. This anniversary was not lost on either of them. One year ago an uncertain Woody had returned home… to her. They would spend tomorrow celebrating the fifth anniversary of the birth of their first child. But tonight they would spend intimately – celebrating… several times… the first anniversary of their reunion. They made love and cuddled, made love and talked, and made love until the depth of the dark, sacred night sky was grayed a few shades by the approaching light of dawn. Without fully realizing how eventful Will's fifth birthday would be, they both acknowledged their need for at least a couple hours of sleep to fortify them for the planned activities of the day. Relaxing into the familiar warmth of each other, their bodies entwined, they slept contentedly.

XXXXXXXXX

The guests had arrived. Lunch had been served. They were preparing for the piñata pull – when Woody noticed that Jordan was nowhere to be found. He searched the house and finally located her in their upstairs bathroom. He knocked gently, calling her name. The door opened noiselessly – just a crack.

"Is everything all right?" he questioned absently, not quite sure what to make of the look on her face.

"Yeah… fine… great…"

"Jordan, what is it?" He had to admit she was scaring him.

"Nothing really, Woods. It's just that…" he noticed her flush as she spoke.

"Just what, Jordan?"

"My water broke."

Woody stood still for a minute, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Your water?"

She opened the door wider and he couldn't help staring at the puddle at her feet. "Oh-Kay," he responded slowly as she watched the color drain from his face.

"This is it, Woody. We have to finish up the party and…" The contraction had her almost doubled over before she could finish the sentence.

Woody grabbed her by the shoulders and helped her to sit down. "Stay here. Try to relax. I'll be right back." He kissed her forehead and swept from the room in a blur.

He returned in a few minutes with a large towel and a change of clothes for her. Helping her into the dry outfit, he kept talking softly, calmly, reassuringly the whole time…

"Lily will finish up the party. It's piñata time. Nigel will take Will after the party wraps up and everyone leaves. He'll bring Will by the hospital to see how things are going… and so you can see him if you're up to it… then Nigel will keep him for the night."

"It appears you have everything under control, Detective," she grunted as another contraction began – but she was unable to talk through this contraction.

_Appearances are deceiving._ If he wasn't mistaken, this was Jordan's second contraction in less than ten minutes. "Can you walk, Jordan? Here, here… lean against me."

They made their way slowly, carefully down the stairs. Woody was grateful that the next contraction didn't hit until they were seated in his car. Jordan was grateful that her husband had a flashing light and siren so they didn't have to stop on the way to the hospital.

XXXXXXXXX

Their second son entered the world with a lusty wail just an hour after Jordan was checked into the family-friendly Labor, Delivery, and Recovery Room. Woody sat by her head, brushing her damp curls off her forehead and crooning into her ear, "He's beautiful, Jo… amazing."

"What's his name?" the nurse queried as she placed the infant on his mother's chest.

"Robert Jordan Hoyt," was Woody's immediate response.

Jordan regarded him questioningly. They had both agreed that they liked Robert… Bobby… if the baby turned out to be a boy. But they had not settled on a middle name. And, to her recollection, 'Jordan' hadn't even been discussed as a possibility. "Jordan?" she asked, looking up into his twinkling eyes.

He nodded.

"Why? There are so many…"

"After all, it is a boy's name you know," he offered before she finished.

She noted his self-satisfied smirk. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Besides… you named the first one," came the gently goading reminder.

"You're right," she affirmed, smiling. "I guess fair is fair."

"And," he gazed deeply into her honey-colored eyes, "this one looks a lot like his mommy." Woody lightly, lovingly caressed the dark curls on the tiny head.

"Do you think so?" She glanced down at the baby, resting her hand gently on her husband's. "To me he looks like you… almost as much as Will did when he was born."

"That must have been hard for you, Jo." There were tears in his eyes. They had never talked about this – but Woody couldn't help himself. There were so many emotions welling up inside of him. He continued after a moment, "To look at your baby… your child – and be reminded of the man who deserted you."

Jordan smiled at him ever so slightly. "I never saw that man when I looked at Will." He held his breath, waiting for her to continue. "The only man I ever saw when I looked at Will was the man I love."

XXXXXXXXX

Nigel arrived at the hospital holding the hand of a very wired Will. When the party had wrapped up, Nigel informed Will that his mommy and daddy had gone to the hospital and that he would take Will to see them.

Woody met Will and Nigel just outside the door of Jordan's hospital room. "We knew he'd have to learn to share sooner or later."

"Yeah," Nigel responded absently. "It is something, I've read, that only children… first children… have to learn." Nigel looked at Woody, knowing he was missing something but not quite able to identify what that _something_ was. "Does our Jordan… is she up to visitors?"

Woody nodded ascent and Nigel waited, still trying to figure out what the Detective wasn't telling him… yet.

"He'll just have to start sharing early –," Woody said softly to Nigel, motioning to his fidgeting son, " – by sharing his birthday."

Woody watched the comprehension seep into Nigel's gaze. "You mean?"

Woody nodded, beaming. "Robert Jordan Hoyt is waiting to meet you two," he announced proudly, pushing the door open to allow them entry.

Will, having paid no attention to the inane chatter of the adults, bounded into the room and stopped short. His mommy was sitting up in the bed holding a blanket-wrapped bundle. Woody and Nigel remained motionless as Will resumed his approach, more slowly this time. Coming to a halt beside the bed, he looked up into his mother's eyes. With a smile, Jordan patted the bed beside her and Will instantly climbed up to be cuddled comfortably beside her. She gently reached around her eldest son's shoulders. Woody observed in awe as Jordan lowered the baby onto Will's lap – supporting both children the entire while.

Wide-eyed, Will watched as his mommy pulled the blanket away from the little head so they could see the infant's face. "King Arthur?" Will questioned, bending close to stare intently into the baby's eyes.

"His name is Bobby," Jordan informed him gently.

Will looked up at his mother and considered her keenly for a moment before he nodded. "K," he approved with finality.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody moved efficiently around the hospital room making sure they had everything. He pulled the blue nametag off the isolette and slipped it into the diaper bag. When Jordan emerged from the bathroom in normal clothes, Woody helped her into her coat and moved her to sit in the required wheelchair.

With everything stuffed into Jordan's suitcase and the diaper bag, and both of those items slung haphazardly over his shoulder, Woody announced, "I guess that's it. We're ready to go."

Will was sitting on the edge of the bed taking in the entire scene with a growing sense of alarm. When Jordan noticed his increasing fretfulness she asked with concern, "What is it, buddy?"

Woody turned to witnessed the rising disquiet in their son make its way to the surface, and in a voice laced with panic they both smiled as he blurted out, "Don't forget my Bobby!"


	20. Dreams

**Dreams**

The dreams were the only place she could remember him clearly anymore. His face, his touch, his voice… in her dreams alone he was so real…

And she didn't know why it hurt so much.

She thought – while she was living it – that she would always remember. The feelings had been that intense. Her determination had been that specific. It had been the first time she let someone in on _that level_ and it deserved, he deserved to be remembered. But, what once she thought she would be able to keep alive forever had died a quiet death – while she hadn't even known it was happening.

Except for in her dreams…

The ache intensified and steadily pushed her toward consciousness as she became increasingly aware of tender strokes to her face and soft whispers around her. Gently, slowly she ascended from the deep, paralyzing sleep and broke the surface to consciousness. The indescribable despair settled over her, around her like a heavily saturated blanket.

"You were dreaming again." It was a statement, and though she could see the pain in her husband's blue eyes – there was only compassion in his voice.

She felt her groan of acknowledgement before she heard it; her voice was a whisper, "J.D. was there again."

Woody nodded and then lay back down beside her, on his back, staring at the ceiling. But his hand reached out to take hers, their fingers entwined.

_What am I doing to you? To us? Again?_ She groaned inwardly grappling with the remorse she felt. She was unintentionally taking him on another one of her mental journeys – which hardly ever ended well. She regarded him discretely – without turning her head; she watched him from the corner of her eye.

He turned his head to watch her pretending not to watch him.

Though he did his best to hide it, he was struggling with myriad emotions. This psychological expedition he had joined Jordan on was a tough one because it skirted so many other possible "break down" points, and it scared the hell out of him. This was a voyage into a past he did not – and could not ever – share with her. He could be there _for_ her but he was not able to be there _with_ her, and he was trying desperately to figure out where he fit.

"I meant what I said – Jordan. I take those words seriously – they are binding… that's why they call them vows."

He got the reaction he was after as she rose up leaning on her elbows – and she smiled, looking down at him. "You did, huh?"

"Have I given you reason to doubt…?"

She felt the tears stinging behind her eyes and quickly answered, "No. No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry…" _Damn the hormones._

"Sokay." His voice was achingly sincere. He reached up to touch her cheek and as she leaned forward, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head down to his for a chaste kiss.

Pushing herself back, she sat up next to him, legs crossed, and looked into the blue depths of his eyes. "What's going on in there?" she questioned, gently tapping his forehead with her fingertips.

"Wouldn't you like to know," his throaty voice was husky, seductive and he wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She laughed.

He pouted. "Not quite what I was going for, _dear_." Emphasizing the last word, he moved stealthily to pull her on top of him, enjoying the feeling of her body unfolding and stretching along the full length of his.

Drawing her head toward his, he claimed her lips with his – persistently – until she opened her mouth to allow him access. She didn't miss his groan or the evidence of his growing arousal. Reaching down to grasp him firmly through his boxers, he rewarded her with a sharp intake of breath. "Jordan –" It came out as a gasp. "Slow down. We can't. It's too soon…" He gently rolled her to snuggle beside him and continued his tender ministrations until the soft rustle coming from the cradle beside their bed caused him to be still beside his wife.

It was just a few moments before they heard the tentative cry. They both waited expectantly until they were rewarded with a lusty wail. With a broad smile and one more kiss to her forehead he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed in a single, fluid motion. He reached into the cradle to pick up their mewling son. Breathing in the sweet baby smell, he tenderly cuddled the infant to his chest before he lay back in the bed and nestled the baby beside him and close to his mother. "Are you ready for him?" he asked as the baby rooted at the touch of his finger to the soft cheek.

Jordan propped herself among pillows against the headboard as she settled their son down to eat. She felt herself begin to relax as the baby suckled – and her mind wandered.

It was this pregnancy – the hormones – that had started her bout of mental house cleaning. Thoughts, memories, feelings that had remained dormant for years reasserted themselves and demanded attention – if not reconciliation. Unfortunately, as hard as she tried, she had not been able to keep it a solitary effort. The dreams had come back – and they had gradually become a force with which to be reckoned.

Woody contentedly watched his wife and son for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet. Their in-the-process-of-being-established world had been set on its ear from the first stirrings of the hormones of their pregnancy with this little guy – even before the lines appeared on the positive pregnancy test. But it was the dreams… She had struggled with them for the past few weeks… and she wouldn't – or couldn't – talk to him about them. This had sent his mind on a downward spiral and unexplainable disquiet radiating through his being.

He told her he understood. She believed him. And he tried very hard to make that true. They had talked about it… Every love you experience becomes a part of you, makes you who you are. These were brave words from a man who longed to love her as she needed to be loved – but was so afraid that he would never really be a part of her – would never be what she really needed… or who she really wanted.

The future – their future – belonged with him, to them… he hoped. But, her past was her own and there were parts of it in which he did not feel welcome. He was unsure how to gauge what she was going through, and he was not at all sure she wanted to deal with him right now. The uncertainty had roiled within – but he had finally come to a decision.

He would stay. He would do everything he could to keep her – even as he feared he felt her pulling away more and more. He would, however, give her the space he thought she wanted – and then maybe she would be able to find her way back… to him.

Taking the satiated infant from Jordan so that she could get a little more rest, he coaxed an impressive burp from the drowsy infant before changing the baby's diaper and maneuvering him into a fresh outfit. He hummed softly, swaying from side to side, until their son was slumbering once more and ready to go back to his cradle.

Jordan watched Woody from their bed. She could sense his confusion, she could tell that he had made some kind of decision, and she knew – from hard-won experience – that the best thing she could do was wait for him to open up… but she never anticipated where his mind had taken him.

XXXXXXXXX

Nigel rounded the corner into the break room to find Woody searching for…

"What are you looking for, mate?"

"Peanut butter. Have you seen it? I bought a new jar just last… ah, ha! Here it is!" He looked over his shoulder as he grabbed the jar from the cabinet. "Hey, Nigel. How are you?"

"Fantastic. And you? And the…" His question died in his throat as Woody turned around and he was able to get a good look at him. The Detective hadn't shaved recently and he looked as if he hadn't slept recently, either. That, and the obvious surplus energy led Nigel to inquire, "What's up, Woodrow?"

"Nothing… why do you ask?"

"Let's just say I know you better than that. What is going on? Is it Jordan? The boys…?"

"Everything… uh… everyone's fine, Nigel." Even as he said it, he could tell the man was totally unconvinced. "New baby – that's all. No one gets much sleep," he continued, making another feeble attempt to persuade Nigel _and himself_ that everything was really all right.

"Well, how about lunch, then? A chimichanga… a little conversation between friends… What do you say?"

Nigel did not miss the heavy sigh before Woody answered, "Sounds good. You wanna walk?"

XXXXXXXXX

"Dreams, huh?"

Woody nodded around bites of his chimichanga.

"Is that what's bothering you?"

"That. And the fact that Jordan's hiding something. She won't open up about what's going on. She pretends everything is okay – but I have this _really_ bad feeling."

"Don't jump to conclusions, mate. I understand the skepticism – that comes from hanging around Jordan for so long." _Okay – not even a smile. This is more serious than I thought._ "But you have to work on getting over the pessimism."

Woody glared at him. "How?"

"You could start by accepting that she not only loves you – _she is in love with you_."

"And you say that as if you know it for certain."

"Trust… that's another thing to work on, dear Woodrow."

"How do you know, Nigel?" Woody pressed.

"How much did you learn about Jordan during this pregnancy?"

Woody's features softened and in his countenance Nigel was able to read the Detective's love story. Woody's voice was throaty, barely audible when he responded, "Your point is?"

"I was with her the first time… during her pregnancy with Will. I know how hard it was at times."

This piqued Woody's interest but he proceeded cautiously, "Did she have… umm… dreams?"

Nigel nodded. "She called them dreams. They were nightmares. I saw their aftereffects the following days when she came in to work. Exhausted. Grumpy. Worried."

"When did they stop?" Woody sounded pathetic, tired, at his wits' end.

"They came less frequently within a few weeks of Will's birth. But every once in a while – for months – she would have one. It would set her off kilter for days."

"Did she tell you what they were about?"

It was Nigel's turn to exercise care as he considered confiding some of his most privileged conversations with Jordan to her bewildered husband. "Yeah… sometimes."

Woody waited expectantly for Nigel to continue.

Nigel wasn't really surprised Jordan hadn't shared the nightmares of her first pregnancy with Woody. She had been devastated and vulnerable when the Detective left. She managed to put up a brave front so that, unless you knew her well, it seemed as if she was doing just fine. Though she apparently was able to dam up the anxiety during her waking hours, the fears often managed to overflow and seep into her dreams.

Unsure of just how much he could reveal without betraying Jordan's confidence, Nigel asked, "Has she told you what these most recent dreams are about?"

Woody nodded, "J.D. Pollack." A look of… was that confusion… briefly passed across Nigel's face before he effectively neutralized his expression.

"I take it that Jordan's dreams during her pregnancy with Will were _not_ about her Aussie reporter boyfriend."

"I'm really not the right person to ask," Nigel said, shaking his head slightly.

"Come on, Nige," Woody prodded, a bit annoyed at Nigel's evasion. "If she didn't dream about J.D. Pollack last time, what was bothering her? What were her nightmares about?"

Nigel remained silent for a few moments before he answered resolutely. "No, Woodrow. I'm sorry mate – I can't go there. You're going to have to ask Jordan what her nightmares were about when she was expecting Will." _I'm not going to be the one to tell you that her nightmares were about you._


	21. No Promises

**A/N: **Thanks for joining me on this adventure. And, a very special "thank you" to Nynaeve1723 whose encouragement and kindness significantly padded the landing for my leap of faith.

**No Promises**

Bit by bit, Woody pieced his nerve together and held it in place with insecurity, apprehension, and regret. On his way home he stopped at the bar that once bore the name "Pogue Mahone" in order to stoke his courage. Once seated at the familiar counter, he conceded the necessity to keep his wits about him – and settled on a coffee.

XXXXXXXXX

He was late coming home and she was worried. Relief began to swell within her as she heard him on the porch… his key in the lock… the soft click of the front door as he tried to close it as quietly as possible. She heard him making his way up the stairs and into their bedroom… And the proverbial floodgates broke loose inside and gratitude flowed through her as she observed him standing in silence looking down into the cradle at their peacefully sleeping son.

He didn't know she was there, watching him, until she was next to him. "Welcome home," she whispered as she reached out to touch his arm. He pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly against him and burying his face in her hair.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody moved her away from the cradle, his arm firmly around her waist. When he finally spoke, his tone was low, gentle, "I understand if you feel you need space. I can move into the guest… the nursery. Bobby's so little, he can stay in here with you."

He misread the look of confusion in her face and raced on. "I know, Jordan, that I was never the man you wanted. I know that you _settled_… after everything. And I didn't want to examine it too closely. I was just grateful to be in your life. To finally be your husband. To be the father of your children.

I know he loved you and I know you felt you lost your… _future_… that night. But when I came back to Boston, I wanted to show you… that… I wanted to be your future. I hoped in time you would come to love me like you loved him. I'm sorry… I'm just so, so sorry."

She listened dumbfounded. _How could everything get so messed up?_ She was having trouble piecing together what he was trying to tell her.

Jordan found herself standing in front of him. She reached out her hand and gently touched her fingers to his lips. "Shhhhh," she whispered, unshed tears gleaming, pooling in her eyes. "Please, shhhh." She looked up at him and he was totally disarmed.

"No." She whispered, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving his. "No," she repeated softly, and his heart sank.

He looked down at the ground, unable to meet the intensity of her gaze any longer. "You… you want me to… go?"

She lifted his chin with her fingers so that she could again look into his eyes. "No."

"No," he repeated, breathlessly. He was not prepared for the gentleness of her kiss on his lips. And even less prepared – as he opened his mouth slightly to speak – his words were muffled, lost with her tongue against his hungrily seeking unity.

XXXXXXXXX

Woody moved to sit in the oversized chair they so often shared and pulled her into his lap. "You were in love with him." It was a simple statement rife with the ache of longing, confusion – but holding no reproach.

His voice startled her from her reverie and she took a long moment to consider his declaration before she answered. "No." She shook her head slightly. Sadly?

"What?" The surprised question was sincere and laden with his desire to understand. All this time – the past year… and even before that – he had assumed she had been in love with the man she had lost, and _that_ loss was the reason for her current heartache.

In his mind, Woody rationalized, he had always been second choice. He had wondered, and then accepted, that he had been lucky enough to be there – to fill the gaps – because her first choice, the man she had been in love with, was out of the picture.

"You called him back, Jordan. You had given up on _us_."

"I tried," she admitted. "It was what you wanted."

"How do you figure?"

"You had Lu. You didn't want me."

"I didn't know what I wanted… much less what I needed… then. And when you found out about Lu, and you didn't get angry – I figured you didn't care. I didn't have to feel guilty about Lu – and hurting you – because you never really cared – you never got _jealous_.

Not like me. Not like when you were with Pollack – and it ate me up inside… seeing you with him… thinking of you with him… the jealousy."

"You told me… told him… to… knock himself out. You made it clear you didn't care."

"He told you that?" The look Woody gave her was hangdog. "I didn't mean it."

"How was I supposed to know you didn't mean it? You said you were 'getting the toxins out of your system' and it was clear you thought I was one of those toxins. And you were hardly talking to me." He winced at the hurt in her voice.

"I wanted to be free of you…" he confessed, "like you were free of me. You found it so easy to… move on… forget about me."

"It wasn't like that. I didn't move on, and I _never_ forgot you. I did _what you asked me to do_."

"Why did you have to start doing _that_… doing what I asked you to do? You'd never done it before." He twirled a dark curl absentmindedly around his finger.

"Because… I loved you. And I thought it was important to you."

He was silent for a few moments before he responded. "I came to understand… through therapy… that I resented you for loving me so much that you wanted what was best for me – even if that meant letting me go."

Jordan nodded. "I couldn't make you love me, Woods… and I wouldn't hold you back. As difficult as it was, all I could do was keep going."

"You made it look so easy." His reply was emotionless and Woody studied her a moment before he continued. "I was confused… somehow along the way _love_ and _need _and _jealousy _all got jumbled together… and I wanted you to _prove_ that you loved me. I wanted you to be jealous. I wanted you to beg me to stay with you. That, I figured, would mean you truly loved me."

This time Jordan shook her head ever so slightly. "I thought you were happy… without me… I didn't have the right to stand in your way."

"Jealousy is not love." His statement was monotone.

"Therapy?" He didn't even have to look at her; he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah, and despite my once seemingly 'self-actualized' comments – I found myself in this cosmic battle with you… much like the one you used to share with Max. I became a man who resented needing you so much."

"Ahhh. That's where the 'rebound guy' line came from."

The tiniest nod of his head was her confirmation. "Then I got involved with Lu… and I lost touch with you – my best friend… I wasn't prepared – I missed you… us… so much.

And then Pollack was murdered. I didn't even know he was back. I was so out of synch with you…"

His choice of words and his resulting sly, full-dimpled grin brought a smile to her lips.

"When you lost Pollack, the pain you felt was obvious. But you had to go through it – or be stuck forever. And you did… so bravely. The confusion frightened me – yours and mine."

"You worked so hard to clear me… after J.D.'s murder. And when I finally was able to stop running and start healing – you were there."

He noticed the falter in her voice and chose not to ignore it – reaching out, he held her hand. "One of the few things I did right. With you was the only place I ever really wanted to be."

Woody had found her, literally. Broken and scattered. And bit-by-bit he had helped her put herself and her world back together. He had saved her when she didn't think she could go on. Could feel. Didn't want to feel – anything – anymore – ever. Jordan wondered to herself if he realized that. She decided that she would have to remember to share those facts with him… someday. When the two of them were alone together and had time to work through the inevitable trauma and emotions… but not tonight.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You _were_ there for me. You believed in me – even when I doubted myself."

"I did. And after everything settled down, and you were cleared of Pollack's murder – it was excruciating to watch you." _Helplessly, hopefully…_ "It was obvious how much you had loved him… how much you were in love with him." His voice was barely audible.

"I was never in love with him," she confessed quietly, leaning heavily into Woody's chest. "At first I told him that if there was an attraction it was purely physical. He said physical was good. I grew to care about him… even loved him. But I was never in love with him. He was never…"

"The ring, Jordan. He bought you a ring." His voice was pleading.

She shrugged, "I found that out from you. He never… he only alluded to it in passing… as a stupid mistake. If you hadn't mentioned it… if I hadn't seen it when you were going through the contents of his desk… I wouldn't have ever known."

"But he loved you. He told you – before we left for Littleton Village."

"I've wondered about that – it was the first time… the only time J.D. ever said that to me. With you there as witness. I've wondered…"

"You weren't sure… about us… when we came back. After that night."

"Is that what you think?"

He looked at her and nodded.

"I hurt someone I cared about, a man who didn't deserve… what I had just done. And he wanted to try to slide past it… 'as long as it didn't mean anything.' But I couldn't tell him that it… that we… that you… didn't mean anything."

Jordan heard him suck in his breath, "I'm… I… didn't know."

"Well, we didn't do a lot of communicating… after."

Woody held her a little tighter against his chest and felt Jordan shake her head. "I should have, right? I should have been in love with him. Who wakes up next to a dead man they're not in love with? Covered in blood. I was covered in his blood. It would be easier – the memories – if I could say I was in love with Pollack. But I wasn't. I was never free to fall in love with him."

He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at her words. "Then what…"

"It was you, honey. It has always been you." Her tone was teasing, but…

"The dreams, Jordan?" he questioned earnestly.

"We got pregnant," she answered imperturbably.

"What has that got to do with…?"

"Hormones, Woods. They go crazy." She made the cuckoo sign with her hand next to her head. "You missed it the first time." She smiled at him.

"But I lived through it this time... barely." She felt the soft chuckle in his chest.

"Well, dreams are one possible… ummm… side effect. And it's not like I hadn't been on an emotional roller coaster from the moment you showed up on my doorstep… the moment you came home."

He made a mental note of her choice of words – not that he had returned to Boston… but rather that he had come home.

"You had dreams during your pregnancy with Will?" he asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

He felt Jordan stiffen slightly before she nodded into his chest, "Uh-huh."

"Will you tell me about them?"

He felt her sigh more than he heard it. He also felt her snuggle closer to him before she answered. "What do you want to know?"

"Were they about…?"

"You."

"What?"

"They were about you," she repeated. "I searched for you, and searched for you – in the dreams. You were in danger. I couldn't find you."

"Oh. Jordan, I…"

She leaned away from him to look into his eyes and then pressed her lips gently to his. "I know. It's all right. It's over," she whispered against his lips.

"I couldn't find me, either. I was… lost. Then, when I finally had it all worked out, when it all became clear in my mind…"

"Therapy?" she interjected

And he continued, nodding, "And I thought I had accepted everything that had happened, I had the anger under control – I realized I had made the biggest mistake of my life. And I knew then I just couldn't return to Boston… to you… ever. I knew you were better off without me."

Jordan sat still for a few minutes, letting the implications of Woody's confession wash over her. "What did you think those letters were, Woody? Fan mail?" She tried vainly to keep the sarcasm, incredulity, hurt from slipping into her voice.

"I thought you were trying to save me… and I didn't deserve to be saved. I didn't deserve you…

Then I stumbled upon your dad's… Max's obituary in that Internet search. That was when I opened all the letters and the emails Nigel had sent through the years. I found out about our son… about Will – and I had to ask myself – how could I return to Boston? And, more to the point and perhaps more importantly – how could I not return?"

"You came back to make sure he was all right." Jordan eyed him tauntingly. "You remembered all those houseplants I… neglected."

His chuckle was comforting. "No, Jordan. I came home because – I love you. And I needed to find out if you could love me, too… whether I deserve it or not. I wanted a chance to be happy."

He held her for a few minutes in silence before he continued. "Do you have any idea why these dreams – this time – are lingering? Bobby's almost a month old now. Shouldn't they… the hormones…"

"Guilt."

"Huh?" He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. And if he had – he didn't understand.

"I think I'm finally letting go of the guilt. The guilt… of never having been in love with J.D. And the guilt… of always having been in love with you. J.D. and I never stood a chance – and he knew it. He said that love is like malaria."

"You are going to explain?"

"Love doesn't really go away. It just goes dormant. And it can come back… sometimes years later. I think J.D. knew I never really let you go."

"I'm sorry, Jordan… for what happened with him."

"Yeah, me too."

XXXXXXXXX

Call it masochism; he had to ask, "When did the dreams about me stop?"

"They began to lose their intensity shortly after Will was born."

He could tell she was hedging so he pushed, "A few weeks? A month."

"Ummm. Sort of."

"How long was it, Jordan?" He leaned back to look into her eyes. "How long?"

"They finally stopped when you came home."

He was sorry he had asked.

XXXXXXXXX

"I told you I had a feeling there would probably always be things that come up… issues we'll have to deal with." Her head rested on his chest, the beat of his heart a calming metronome.

"You promised me sex… mind-blowing-make-up-sex to be exact."

"Is that all you heard?"

"That's all I needed to hear." He kissed the top of her head. "So you're saying there's no way to avoid this… these… unresolved issues… from surfacing in the future?"

"No guarantees," she shrugged. "We can try to prevent the intensity, however."

His raised eyebrows and gentle squeeze were his encouragement for her to continue.

"No more pregnancies," she said leaning back to look at him.

He studied her for a moment and then a smile spread across his face. "I think you're safe there, Doc. For at least another year or so." He wagged his eyebrows at her and she lost herself in the shining depths of his blue eyes. When he spoke again, the husky tone of his voice sent tingles through her, "After that, I make no promises."

END


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